Follow me
by Red-Chindi
Summary: Vampire lord Count von Krolock is in for a long night. Instead of seducing the beautiful Sarah, he's stuck dealing with Alfred, a young student passing through town. What begins as an inconvenience soon becomes a terrible threat, and it's up to the count's son and his new consort to save him. Will they succeed? Or will this be the end of Count von Krolock?
1. Prologue

Hey everyone!

I'm Red-Chindi, a 30 year old girl from Germany and new to . But I've already published a couple of fanfictions on the German page . This is now one of the better ones, freshly translated for you.

Now I understand this is the time, to give my huge thanks to my beta-reader Slaycinder, who made the translation readable for you ;-).

I really hope you enjoy my story!

But first I want to give some quick backround information for everyone, who is not familiar with the original musical (this, by the way, is not beta-read, so you can get an idea of what Slaycinder spared you from):

The musical starts with the young student Alfred and his old professor Abronsius almost freezing to death in a snowstorm. Alfred just reaches an inn in time (carrying his professor), where they warm up and take a guestroom. The Jewish inn-keeper Chagal gives them the tour, where they also inspect a „very modern" bathroom (in fact it's just a wooden tub...). Problem is, the inn-keeper's daughter Sarah is still bathing there... Noticing Alfreds very interesting glares, the inn-keeper goes and boards up one of the two doors, that lead out of the bathroom leading to Sarah's room (the other door leads to the guestchamber.)

On the next morning, they witness Chagal trading with a hunchbacked person. Later he doesn't want to tell them, who he was. Professor Abronsius is certain that the hunchback must be a servant in a big castle, where a count must be living (it's very impressing and funny how he gets to this conclusion) – a vampire count, as he assumes, seeing all the garlic in the inn. That's perfect, since he came to Transilvania to proof the existence of vampires (and such win the nobel prize) in the first place.

That evening, Alfred wants to take a bath.

This is all the information you need, for from this moment on my story takes another way than the musical.

So, enjoy!

Prologue

Groaning, Alfred brought the heavy water buckets from the kitchen to the bathroom. For this "very modern" bathroom – as the Jewish inn-keeper had called this small, cold room with a single wooden tub – worked like all the other normal bathrooms of the last centuries. Water had to be heated up down in the kitchens in the big kettle above the fire and then heaved to the tub. If they only got a servant to do it for their money... But no, Alfred had to do it by himself. This, or ask the maiden Magda to do it, but Alfred couldn't bring himself to. Even he had problems with the weight of the full buckets and he was a man. Should he really pass this burden on to a woman?

Finally he reached the bathroom and put both buckets beside the tub. Puffing, he closed the door, shook his aching arms and went to fill the wooden tub with hot water. The air in the room was far too cold for his liking. It seemed like the old fireplace in the corner had not been lit for years. But nothing could tarnish his anticipation for a bath.

All day long he had followed Professor Abronsius, who was searching the surroundings of the inn for traces of the hunchbacked man – or the castle, which he was certain the man belonged to. The freshly fallen snow made his attempts fruitless, but that didn't stop the professor from dragging Alfred through the cold until darkness fell. Even the hot (and terrible-tasting – he really liked garlic, but not that much!) soup back in the smoky inn did not manage to chase the cold out of his bones. He hoped the hot water would do the trick now. Professor Abronsius was still downstairs in the pub, leaning over the notes he made that day. He had given Alfred grumbling permission to leave for an hour to take a bath.

Alfred had just started to undress, when his look fell on the door that the inn-keeper had nailed up yesterday. Before he did that, his daughter had disappeared through this door. Maybe it led directly to her bedchamber? Or was it just some random room or hallway? Alfred's curiosity was provoked and he knew he had to satisfy it, before he could concentrate on anything else again – or relax in the hot water. Checking that he was still alone in the room, he approached the nailed-up door, and after another quick glance at the door behind him, he bent down and peeped through the key hole. He thought he could make out a bed on the other side, so it probably was the chamber of – Sarah, yes, that was her name.

"Excuse me?"

Caught in the act, Alfred shot up gasping and turned around to see the young woman, whose bedroom he just inspected through the keyhole. What did this look like! How embarrassing. And he didn't have any bad intention at all.

"Good – good evening," he stammered and had a hard time controlling his voice.

"You are about to take a bath?", the red-haired beauty asked. She did not seem bothered at all by his impertinence and just looked dreamily at the water. "Do I interfere?"

Pardon? Of course she interfered. He was halfway undressed and his hot water was waitingfor him, getting colder by the minute. But it would be impolite to say so (especially considering what he had been caught doing when she entered the room), so he said, "No, of course not. Can I help you somehow?"

"You're really nice. My room is full of garlic and I'm barred up inside all the time", she explained and pointed to the nailed-up door.

Alfred could not see any connection between her statement and his desire to take a bath. "You mean your father is locking you up in your chamber?" Maybe she wanted him to talk to the inn-keeper, put in a good word?

"Certainly! Even though I'm almost 18!" Sarah nodded, sad and disgusted, and let fall her sponge. Why did she bring a sponge? Being a gentleman, Alfred crouched down at once to pick it up. His head almost smashed into Sarah's, who had had the same intention.

"A sponge?", Alfred asked, pointing at the retrieved item, because he was curious to know why she had brought it.

"It's sooooo soft, I really love it," Sarah explained, wiping it over her face and then over his. Yes, the sponge was really soft, but it did also smell a bit.

"It's a pretty sponge", Alfred assured the girl, for she obviously liked this sponge a lot. So her next move was quite surprising for him. She presented him with the sponge and said: "I give it to you. Go, take it. I've got two."

Hesitating another moment, Alfred shrugged his shoulders and took the sponge. It was quite a welcome present. He did not have a sponge of his own and it would make his bath even better. "Thank you. Thank you very much. Can I give you anything in return?" he asked.

She fluttered with her eyelashes and said. "Maybe – you could just pass on this bath to me?"

Alfred laughed loudly, when he finally realized the intention of the young woman. The next moment he held a hand to his mouth, stifling his chuckles. After all, he didn't want to affront Sarah. Thinking for a moment, he explained:

"Well, I'm sorry, but I looked forward to this bath and I have no time for it later. But I offer you this: When I'm done I'll get new water for you. This way we both get a bath. Does that sound good?"

It was obviously not the result that Sarah had hoped for, but recognizing defeat she nodded, smiled, and finally left the bathroom.

Alfred made sure that the door was properly closed before he undressed completely, took the sponge, which he had laid on the sink and finally slid into the no longer hot, but still comfortably warm water. Delighted, he closed his eyes and felt his muscles relax. No one would be able to get him out of here for the next half hour...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Effortlessly did the dark figure climbed the front of the inn to the roof. Above, he rose to his full, imposing height and looked around. The few houses and farms of the village were all dark and still. Only the inn was bustling and noisy, as his sensitive ears had already told him from afar. This was the place where almost all the villagers were to be found after dark, to eat Chagal's inedible meals and get drunk. Later they would leave the inn, but never alone. No one would walk alone after dark in this area. Or withhold from draping themselves in garlic. As if that would save them should he decide to attack. But he would not attack tonight. Tonight they would be safe. They could not satisfy his current hunger. Only one would do. And he had come tonight, to finally get her.

He had been observing the girl for a long time, had watched her grow from a sweet girl to a stunningly beautiful woman. Patiently he had waited for the right time, being content with plainer girls from other villages. But now Sarah Chagal was ripe enough to be plucked, ready to satisfy his greed. She'd be his special guest at tomorrow's midnight ball. First, he'd drink her blood, and then he'd use her body to satisfy another kind of greed. She would certainly serve for a couple of nights, before he'd lose his interest in her. He'd then send her away, to the others on the castle-cemetery. He'd have to find a new girl for next year. He should make a visit to the char-burner in this other village. He had a little girl some years ago. He would like to seewhat had become of her. Maybe she would serve for next year.

But now he had to secure his date for this year's midnight ball. All was ready – all that was left was to lay the charm upon her, that would make it impossible for her to decline his call.

Breda von Krolock turned to the many chimneys on the roof of the inn. He knew which one led to the empty fireplace in that bathroom next to Sarah's bedchamber. It was possible that he didn't have to go that far. He pulled his clock from his pocket and glanced at it. Yes, he was right on time. Now the red-haired beauty usually took her bath. He always could hear her singing and splashing up here. Oh, it would be a special appeal to charm her, when she was naked and vulnerable. And he could get a first taste for tomorrow night, when he would make her body his own.

He leaned over the chimney. This fireplace obviously hadn't been used for years. Chagal saved where he could, penurious as only a Jew could be. Yes – he could hear water splashing, though the familiar chanting was absent, but that did not worry him. Grinning, Breda clambered into the duct, gathered himself, and let himself fall, like many times before.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alfred had just sat up in his tub. He sighed, having nearly drowned himself when he sank ever deeper in the water because tiredness got the better of him. The water was cooling down considerably now. It was time to start washing before it got uncomfortable. He reached with his arm over the rim of the tub and groped blindly for the soap that he had placed right beside the tub. When his hand didn't find anything, he rose half-way out of the water and leaned over the rim to reach it, causing half a tsunami when the water splashed jauntily around his body.

A sudden noise behind him made him turn his head before his fingers could touch the stupid soap. In the following seconds, Alfred was completely immobile and his head was nothing but numb emptiness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Count Breda von Krolock landed, he absorbed the power from the fall nimbly like a cat and rose at once. He groped for his cape to spread it like bat wings, bared his pointy fangs and set his eyes on the beauty in the tub, to instantly work his charm - and didn't see anything but a naked butt right before him. That wasn't even the worst, 'cause a second glance told him that it was definitely not a female butt, when he interpreted the dangling thing between those legs rightly. Also that face, that looked at him flabbergasted, was not that of Sarah Chagal, but of – whomever.

Breda von Krolock froze in his movement. The seductive flashing of his teeth became a disgusted grimace while his brain tried to figure out where he went wrong. He gagged and shook himself noncommittally. What the hell was wrong with his son, that he would find this sight even arousing?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After some seconds, Alfred's brain started working again. And he realized many embarrassing and terrifying things in a very short time. He just showed a vampire his naked butt (yes, damn it, he was completely naked!) and he had nothing to defend himself but a sponge an not even a piece of soap.

With a panicky and entirely unmanly scream that stuck in his throat, he slid back into the water. He followed his first impulse and wound his arms around his knees, which he pressed tightly together. Well, this would stop this very grim looking vampire with his sharp fangs from looking at his privates, but that wouldn't help him to survive, for his neck was as bare as ever.

He wanted to call for the professor, but nothing but a thin squawk left his mouth. Up to this moment, Alfred hadn't really believed in these creatures, and still he hoped to wake from this nightmare any moment. But something told him that this wasn't a dream. When the vampire finally woke from his rigidity and started moving towards him, Alfred was close to fainting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda got over his rigidity, when the boy (for he was not older than 20) slid back into the water, screaming.

Damn it!

It seemed that Yoine Chagal had guests for once and instead of his daughter, this foreign boy was waiting for him. Not only did this balk his plans, it was also a danger. By now the boy had tried to call for help.

He had to act. Vampires were powerful beings, but even their power had boundaries. This was one of them. The charm that they could put on humans only worked on the other gender. A fact that made un-life much harder for his man-loving son. Herbert had to rely on the same penchants or force – and he didn't really like the latter.

After he made the decision, he didn't hesitate any longer. He started moving toward the boy who was a witness and therefore couldn't leave this room alive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alfred's brain and body went numb. A tiny whisper told him that he should call for help, that he should defend himself. The tub was wooden. A piece of it thrust through the heart of the beast – he would be saved.

But even if he had gained back his capability to move just one muscle, he would have been lost. The wooden planks were held together by heavy iron rings, screwed tightly to the wood. He did not have the strength to break a plank. And call for help? Even if he screamed as loud as he could, it was unlikely that anybody would hear him. The loud music and talking from the pub was audible even up here.

So nothing was left for him, besides closing his eyes and whispering a silent prayer. He sent a last greeting to his loved ones back home so far away and waited for the inevitable. Only seconds later he felt the sharp pain of teeth driving deep into his neck.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The boy was stark-naked, chalk-white, freezing and rigidified from fright. Breda could imagine more dignified situations, but he couldn't change it. The boy did not struggle. He could sink his teeth into his flesh effortlessly and drink greedily from the blood of the young lad.

A noise stirred him and he looked around. The sound came from the bedchamber of the inn-keeper's daughter, whose door, as he saw now, was nailed up. Breda grinned. As if that could stop him.

He turned back to the dead boy, who had slid back into the water. The open carotid pulsed the rest of his blood into the water, turning slowly red. The good blood. Too bad.

The boy was quite handsome. Right to the taste of his son, if he wasn't wrong. He'd take him and show him to Herbert. His son should have a chance. He didn't have one often.

Breda loosened his cape, rolled up his sleeves and heaved the boy out of the water. He wrapped the cape around the dead body and went to the window.

Before he jumped out of the window with his burden safe in his arms, he took another glance back into the room and to the barred up door. He sighed. He'd have to come back again later to take her. No big problem, but the delay annoyed him. He wanted to have her and he would get her. Then the vampire turned and jumped into the dark night.

TBC

Well, that's it for the time beeing. I'd really appreciated it, if you left a review, for I'm very interested in your opinion and critisism.

Anyone interested in how the characters look, might want to google following pics:  
Alfred personated by Lukas Perman or Anton Zetterholm

Herbert by Marc Liebisch

Sarah by Marjan Shaki

Count von Krolock by e.g. Robert D. Marx, Drew Sarich, Thomas Borchert,...


	2. Terrible Discovery

_**So here comes the first chapter.**_

_queenmedesa: Thank you for your review. Don't be afraid – I have NO plans to make the count bi- or homosexual. There are really stories about that?!_  
_I saw Marc in Berlin too and I really like Kevin – I have seen him in Stuttgart. But the best count I've seen was Robert D. Marx. But they have all been great in their own ways._

_**And now enjoy!**_

**Terrible Discovery**

Breda moved with his burden through the lonely village, as silent as a shadow. The possibility of him meeting anyone was quite small; the young and strong were hung up at the inn, while the old and the weak were asleep in their houses. After a short time he reached the edge of the dark forest, were his horse was waiting for him. Mephisto, dark as coal, greeted his master with a soft whinny.

Breda threw the boy over the horse's back like a sack of potatoes, then pulled himself up on the saddle. The valuable leather of the costly saddle scrunched a bit when he urged the animal on. Fortunately, his horse was very untiring, for he would have to go the distance between castle and village three more times during the night, twice with an extra burden.

Sure-footed, his horse found his way through the dark snowy wood, completely trusting his rider, who, unlike him, could see in this darkness. After half an hour of a fast trotting, the tallest towers of Castle Krolock came into view, and Breda urged Mephisto on for the final spurt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sarah pressed her ear to the cold wood of the door, which, until last night, had been the entrance to her personal paradise. Now it seemed like an almost insurmountable barrier to her. Almost.

This young assistant of that odd old scientist really took an eternity to bathe. What could he be doing for so long in there? Sarah sighed impatiently, then went to her bed and sat down, squeezing her remaining sponge with her fingers.

Could it be that the young man was finished already and had forgotten about her? Sarah decided to go downstairs to the pub and have a look. Maybe he was back there? She donned her dressing gown and left her room. Silently she tiptoed to the stairway, where she paused a moment and listened intently.

She heard her mother angrily shooing Magda into the kitchen, and the violin of her father. So her father was busy, for he was the only person in this village who knew how to play the violin-even though he wasn't very good at it. Sarah dared to dart down the stairs, where she knew there to be a knot-hole in the wall at the last step, where she could peep through into the barroom. The white-haired professor sat alone on a table with a tankard of beer in front of him, scribbling into a small book. The young man was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he was in the kitchen getting hot water for her? Sarah turned to a door opposite the barroom and opened it. Magda stood by the sink, scrubbing a huge pot that her mother always used to cook her goulash in, but there was no one else in the room.

"Hey Magda, was the young guest here again to fetch some new bathwater?" Sarah asked the fair blond woman.

Magda didn't stop scrubbing the pot – her back would feel it if it was not clean enough for the mistress' liking. "Why again? He was here once and took two buckets, why should he come once more?" she said.

When she received no answer, Magda looked up. The door was closed, Sarah had disappeared. She shook her head angrily. Sarah truly was her parents' daughter. Not even able to say "Thank you". Spoiled brat. Thought she was better than everyone else when in fact, she was as bad a lob as all the other villagers.

Sarah darted up the stairs again and looked doubtfully at the door to the guest chamber. She raised a fist to knock, but hesitated before her knuckles met the wood and let her arm sink again.

What was she afraid of? Earlier that evening she had gone through that room to get to the bathroom with no problem. And what if the young lad had gone to sleep? What if she woke him up? If he was sleeping, then he broke his word by forgetting about her. Righteous anger rose in her and she threw all caution to the wind. She opened the door resolutely and stormed into the chamber – and found that there was no one there.

Dumbfounded, Sarah stared at the door to the bathroom. He could not possibly still be in there? The water had to be freezing cold by now. Cautiously, she approached the door and pressed an ear to it. Nothing. No sound at all, no water splashing, no nothing.

Hesitating, she laid a hand on the handle and lingered for a moment. Then she took a deep breath, mustered all her courage and pressed the handle down. Two seconds later she screamed her head off.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Professor Konstantin Abronsius read the notes he wrote today one last time. They were mostly about the strange behavior of the people in this village. Obviously they tried with all their might to prevent him and Alfred from finding out the truth. Abronsius was certain by now that it had to be the undead that scared them so much. He quickly added another thought that ran through his head, then finally shut the book and put it away in his jacket.

Abronsius pulled a watch out of his breast pocket. He opened the smooth golden lid with a soft click. 'That late?' Abronsius started. He had planned to turn in early, since he wanted to get out again with Alfred at the first light of day. He had looked at some maps of the region and had marked those spots, where a castle was most likely to be.

Where was that lad anyway? Abronsius remembered dimly that he had asked to go and take a bath some time ago. He had probably gone to bed right afterwards. Very laudable. Maybe hope was not lost for the boy. But it would have been nice if he had reminded Abronsius to do the same.

Abronsius poured the rest of the terribly watery beer into his throat, rose and put a hand to the small of his back. His sciatic was hurting again. After getting up wearily, he left the pub and struggled to get upstairs.

It was when he was halfway up, resting for a moment, that he heard a piercing scream. It came from their chamber. Forgetting his pains for the moment, he took the rest of the stairs at a run and stormed through the open door.

In the door to the bathroom stood the daughter of the inn-keeper. The girl had clasped her hands to her mouth and was staring with wide eyes into the room. Abronsius pushed her gently aside and then felt for a moment as if he had crashed into a wall.

To be truthful, the only frightening sight in the room was the color of the bathwater flowing in the tub. It was a shining, bloody red. Aside from his neatly-folded clothes on the stool, there was no trace of Alfred to be found. The window was wide open and the room was growing colder by the minute.

"Alfred," whispered the old scientist, his mind going completely numb.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda commanded the stable boy to rub down the horse and give him water and oats. He then took the dead boy and entered into the thick walls of his castle.

An enormous winged staircase led from the entrance hall to the upper floors. After some twists and turns in the labyrinthine alleys of the castle, he reached the final hallway where his and his son's private rooms were located. When he reached his son's chamber he paused in front of the door and called "Herbert." When there was no answer after a couple of seconds, he shouted more loudly, a trace of anger in his voice. But his call remained unheard – at least by his son. The lesser vampires down in the grounds had probably fled into their graves by now, frightened.

Irritated, Breda walked through the aisles, searching for his heir, until soft chimes reached his ear. He should have guessed it. Knowing his destination now, he went toward the music room, climbing another set of stairs and crossing another alley. The nearer he approached, the more distinct the piano music became, his son being the only possible orchestrator. Some of the other vampires were able to play as well, but not nearly as perfectly and certainly never on Herbert's grand piano, a gift received from his father about twenty years ago.

Breda entered the room, the bundled body still in his arms.

"Herbert," he called loudly, for his son tended to be drawn completely into another world when making music. Discord disrupted the sweet melody, and Herbert turned around to look at him like a hare looking at a wolf.

"I've got something for you. Come," Breda said shortly, and, when he was sure that he had his heir's full attention, turned around and walked away. Herbert would follow. He took the shortest way to Herbert's private chambers and turned in the middle of that room to his son, who had indeed followed him on his heels. With one hand he loosened the cape a bit, so Herbert could see his "gift".

"Didn't you want to get the girl for the ball?" Herbert asked, a certain note in his voice that told his father that he liked the looks of the boy.

"I did. But alas, instead of her I found this young man sitting in the tub. I had to kill him, but I thought you might like him." While he explained, he loosened the cape further from the corpse and realized that the combination of a wet naked body and a soot-covered cape didn't really harmonize. The boy looked like a chimney-sweep's apprentice. He couldn't really resent Herbert for crying out in panic when he tried to place the body on his bed.

"NO! Not there. Here, take the divan," Herbert ordered.

Breda complied with this request and put the lad down on the divan, naked, dead and covered in soot. Somehow, his death was just as undignified as his dying. He could only hope that his un-life would take a better turn – but that would depend largely on his son, and this boy's ability to respond to him.

"Care for him, do whatever you want with him, he's yours. I must leave again." He rolled the cape together and tucked it under his arm. He'd have to get another one. This one would have to be cleaned by his hunchbacked servant Koukól.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After his father left the room, Herbert stepped closer to the dead boy. He was torn between fascination and revulsion. Revulsion, because this boy was just so dirty. Fascination, because he was incredibly pretty. His wheaten hair fell in light wisps over his forehead, his delicate golden lashes brushing his high cheekbones like fans. His nose was just perfectly sized and those slightly open lips – full and sensual, screaming to be kissed.

Herbert's eyes wandered farther over the naked body. The young man was slender and tall. He guessed that they were about the same height, but Herbert's ribs didn't show that distinctly.

Of course he also investigated the lower body. He couldn't help but wonder if those absolutely decent privates had already been in operation, and whether or not the counterpart had been a woman? A small sigh came from Herbert's lips as he felt his own extremities pulse. It was no good. He only could hope for this young man to cooperate. He dared not hope that he could even develop true feelings for him.

The only annoying thing was all that soot. To change that, Herbert went to his bathroom and filled water in a bowl. He took a cloth and came back to the divan, where he began to wash the dirt from the body, which thankfully went quite smoothly.

To his own discontent, Herbert felt his trousers getting tighter. Damn it. He really wanted this boy. He'd had to relinquish pleasure for so long now, and then his father brings him this dream of a man. To distract himself, he set the bowl aside and went to his dressing room, where he looked around for something to cover the body with. He glimpsed a lambskin that he had gotten from his father some years ago and already had forgotten about. He took it and stretched it over the boy.

Unfortunately, now there was no longer a naked boy lying on his divan in the shine of his chimney fire, but a naked boy covered with snow-white lambskin, and that made it look even more sensual in the fiery glow.

Herbert fled into his bathroom and closed the door before he getting rid of his pants so he could get some release. After he was done, Herbert remained for a minute with closed eyes before he dressed again and left his chambers to go and find Kokól without giving the body on his divan another glance. Koukól would have to clean his bathroom. That didn't embarrass Herbert at all, for the dimwitted cripple wouldn't have the slightest idea what the mess on the floor was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After his academic guest had risen alarm, Chagal sent all the guests home, locked his daughter in her room and ordered Magda to clean out the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Abronsius sat on the hard wooden bench in the guest chamber (how could Alfred sleep on it?) and held the abandoned clothes of his assistant in his lap. He had barely registered the promises of his host, that they would assemble a search party first thing in the morning. It would be useless anyway.

The blood loss, the traceless disappearance – there was but one explanation for what had happened. Alfred was dead. Or worse, undead by now. The poor lad.

After he had gotten over the first shock, Abronsius' brain was working flawlessly again. There was no doubt about the fate of the boy. He really felt sorry about all of it. But there was nothing he could do.

He had to go back to Königsberg and find another assistant. None of his colleagues would believe the truth. Besides Aliboris, but he'd probably just laugh about his loss. Aliboris was his biggest rival nevertheless, when it came to proving the existence of vampires. Well, to be honest he was his only rival.

He would also have to bring the bad news to Alfred's parents. He'd have the whole journey back to make up an accident-scenario in which the boy had died. They could not be told the truth. Fortunately, Alfred was not their only child, but the middle of five. They would cope with the loss.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" the inn-keeper suddenly bellowed, causing Professor Abronsius to jump and eye him in irritation.

"There is no need to shout at me," he rebuked the ruffian indignantly.

"Well, I thought I should, since you didn't hear me the two times I called...," Chagal just put him off.

"There actually is something you could help me with," Abronsius said, shrugging his anger off. "We are alone in this room now, you and me, and no one else is listening. You could finally tell me the truth: Am I right in assuming that Alfred is not the first person to disappear from this village?"

Chagal scratched his head, obviously pondering his answer. "Well, you know, it's winter - the wolves..."

"Stop this with the wolves right now. I've never heard about wolves getting into a closed bathroom in the attic of a house and carrying off a young man – and I have studied biology! This was another creature, a creature you are terribly afraid of and which is the reason this house reeks of garlic."

"Why do you even ask, if you know it all already?" Chagal grumbled reluctantly.

"Because it is crucial to know, WHY this creature was in your house tonight. I can't believe it was there because of my assistant. That'd be most illogical."

The inn-keeper just glared at him with wide-opened eyes. For a moment he seemed to fight an inner fight, but then Abronsius could see his defenses break. Chagal drew a stool to himself and sat down, sighing. Since he could not handle the accusing look of the scientist, he spoke to his hands.

"He picks one every year. Either from here, or from the other seven villages that belong to his countship. Sarah has reached the age at which they usually disappear. I mean – just look at her. Such a beauty. Of course he wants to have her. But he won't get her if I can prevent it," he added determinedly.

Abronsius nodded. He had guessed something like this.

"He will be back," he said, and Chagal looked distressed. "Whenever these creatures have chosen a victim, they will not rest until they succeed. That far my studies have prospered already. He will be back – but we'll be ready for him."

TBC


	3. Trapped

_**Hey, **_

_**here is the next chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing, queenmedesa and the guest.  
I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter too.**_

**Trapped**

"Here you go – this list contains all the items that we'll need. These things we'll need right now, those things by no later than midmorning," Konstantin Abronsius explained the note that he just gave to Chagal. "And it needs to be done quickly, 'cause I feel it in my bones that this fellow will come back tonight."

Chagal skimmed the list. "That should be manageable."

"And we'll also need the bravest man to be found here..."

Chagal fidgeted around on his chair. "I don't like this plan. Sarah..." But he paused, when the white-haired professor showed him a dismissive hand.

"It's either this plan, or losing your Sarah for sure," Abronsius made clear again.

Chagal struggled for another moment, before he nodded. "I'll send Magda with the list."

Abronsius stared at the Jew indignantly. Would he send the poor maiden just because he did not dare set foot outside during night himself? If all men in this village were such cowards, this would be some act... Chagal rose, left the small guest chamber and Abronsius leaned over his bag – he'd start preparing right now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda hastened down the winged staircase, clad in a new cape. He crossed the entrance hall with big strides and stepped out into the snowy night again. Mephisto should have regained some strength by now. They'd ride back to the village in an unhurried trot, to avoid overworking the horse. Fortunately these winter's nights were incredibly long here in Transylvania and there was enough time of darkness left to steal his star-child.

The stable-boy had done as he was told, but Breda did not expect less. He petted Mephisto's soft, ebony fur and felt that it was dry again. He neatly put the headgear back on, which the stable-boy had removed to enable the animal to drink and feed.

He got back on the saddle still in the stable and the stallion followed his orders obediently, as he was only under Breda's command.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Alfred woke, he didn't want to open his eyes. He was just too comfortable to move. He had no idea when and how the hard wooden bench in Chagal's guest room turned into this soft bolster. He only knew that he felt really good at the moment. He laid comfortably, he had a cozy blanket, it was warm.

But this peace was disrupted within the blink of an eye, when a nasty feeling flooded his body like a giant wave and flushed away everything else.

Hunger. He was terribly hungry. Never before in his life had he felt so hungry. The hunger filled himself completely and left no place for any other feeling.

He opened his eyes and saw that this was not the guest chamber of Chagal's. He was in a big room, filled with valuable furniture. There were exotic carpets on the floor. At one wall was a huge bed. There was a cozy fire crackling in a big chimney. He himself laid on a lounger and the cozy blanket was indeed a fur. Alfred realized with mild surprise that he was naked underneath the blanket.

His look fell on a young man, who sat in a softly cushioned armchair and seemed to be immersed deeply in a book. It was a man for sure, though many would have assumed a woman from afar. The very long, very fair hair fell sleekly over his shoulders. His fine facial features and the pale skin revealed him to be an aristocrat. The stranger put is book aside and looked at him taxingly, with bright, ice-blue eyes.

Alfred knew these eyes and they made him shiver. Suddenly all came back to him – the vampire in the bathroom, the teeth in his neck. He raised a hand to touch his wound instinctively, but felt nothing.

"You'll find nothing there. Vampires heal quickly. One of the benefits of being undead." The young man's voice was very gentle and Alfred could not have said if it was dark or clear. He settled on melodious.

"You – you're related to him," Alfred stated. "Milord," he added, remembering that he most likely spoke to a noble person.

"My name is Herbert and there is no need for such courtesies. And yes, it was my father who sired you, Count Breda von Krolock," Herbert explained. "And who are you?"

"My name is Alfred," he answered shortly. He did not feel like reciting his ancestry right now. He was dead, his family lived. That alone was strange enough. But it was even stranger that he didn't feel anything particular at this thought. All was covered by hunger.

"Come with me, Alfred. You're hungry. That's normal."

"For a newly-risen vampire?"

"For a vampire. Will you come now?"

"I don't have anything to wear. Unless your father decided to take my clothes too."

Herbert just pointed to a small table beside the divan and Alfred saw some clothes lying there. They were not his clothes. Alfred rose and the lambskin-fur slid off him. He now stood completely naked before the aristocrat, who watched him blatantly. But Alfred felt no shame. He felt indifferent. Only hunger was important right now. He grabbed the clothes without haste and donned them. They fitted neatly. Then he followed the light-blond vampire.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They were green and incredibly intense. Herbert found it hard to stay calm, when he put the book aside and talked a bit with the new vampire. These eyes captured him.

He was a bit irritated when Alfred refused to tell him more about his origins, but he felt quite sure that he was no simple farmer boy. His speech was much too cultivated. He liked that. He knew the intensity of the First Hunger that tormented each newly risen vampire, so he forgave Alfred his impoliteness.

When Alfred rose to don the clothes which Herbert had retrieved out of his enormous wardrobe, he could get another good glance at his body. He couldn't inspect his backside, when he had laid there. He knew that Alfred felt his looks, but obviously he didn't mind at all. That was a first step at least.

He led Alfred through the labyrinthine aisles until they reached some winding stairs. These stairs led them to the wall-walk, that went around the central building of the castle. From afar they heard agitated barking. Slowly they approached a kennel.

"You have dogs on the castle roof?" Alfred asked, somewhat confused.

"Not we, just Koukól, our servant. He is a cripple and imbecile and can't pass a dog without taking it for his own. Father allowed him to keep them and care for them, as long as he does not forget his regular work. I think it's handy. Whenever I'm hungry but don't have time or the wish to go hunting, I come back here. Koukól won't ever notice one beast missing."

They were now directly in front of the kennel-door. The dogs had stopped with their barking. Now they all cowered at the back wall, whimpering softly. Obviously they knew Herbert or they felt that they were not humans, but evil creatures. Their heartbeats boomed in Alfred's ears and he thought he could even hear the blood pulsing through their veins. A part of him realized that the old, human Alfred would have had a hard time even imagining to hurt a sweet little puppy. But now he could not wait to stick his teeth into their soft flesh and to suck their blood, until not a drop was left.

So when Herbert opened the door and waved him inside, saying: "Just pick one," Alfred didn't need much persuasion. He chose the biggest of the altogether well-fed animals and didn't lose any time. The warm blood filled his stomach, reinforced his strengths and soothed the hunger. But still, it left him unsatisfied when he let up on the bloodless cadaver.

"Come and bring the carrion," Herbert ordered and Alfred left the kennel that was shut again by the count's heir. Alfred followed him to a place on the wall-walk, where the castle-wall fell down steeply and bordered on the thick forest, while only some feet from that a deep ravine opened up.

"Throw the dog into the trees over there. The wolves will take care of it," Herbert said and Alfred did as he was told. Then he strolled down the wall-walk and examined the surroundings of the castle. He paused above the cemetery and rested his arms on the parapet, while looking down.

"Are these all vampires?" he asked, referring to the creatures walking around beneath.

"Except for Koukól everyone is undead here. No human would survive long amongst us." A thin smile showed on Herbert's lips. He watched Alfred surreptitiously. He still did not know how to phrase his request, he still couldn't estimate the boy. He had to wait a bit longer and see.

"I would have guessed there were more," Alfred declared a short while later. "Won't everyone turn into a vampire when bitten?"

"You seem to have a good knowledge about vampires, how is that?" answered Herbert with a counter question.

Alfred considered for a moment – he didn't know if the light-blond vampire would like the truth. He decided on just leaving out a bit of the whole story.

"I have been an assistant to a professor, who studied the myth of vampires – well obviously it is not a myth," Alfred added grinningly.

"What did you study?"

"Natural sciences. What about the vampires now. Why are there so few?"

Herbert chuckled contentedly. Alfred was not merely a stupid lob, exactly what he was looking for. A consort who's not able to make conversation from time to time would get him bored rather quickly.

"Because we're drinking human blood only on rare occasions. To tell the truth, only my father and I - with some restrictions – have this privilege. Those down there will get human blood only once a year, at our midnight ball. Apart from that they have to hunt game in the woods."

"Why?"

"You have a lot of questions."

"That's me," Alfred answered and realized, that he had not changed completely after all. Obviously some traits of character of Human-Alfred had survived the transformation.

Herbert sighed, but also found the conversation interesting – and with a little skill of his he could twist it in the right direction.

"There are several reasons. Firstly: If all vampires hunted humans freely, this cemetery would soon burst at the seams, while in the human villages there would soon be no one left. Secondly: Human blood will strengthen a vampire more than anything else. And no vampire may be stronger than the vampire-lord."

"So you mean it was nothing but a coincidence that I got the worst of it? Maybe I should have gambled at one time or another," Alfred stated barrenly.

Herbert chuckled. It was a clear sound and Alfred realized that he took to the count's son.

"Well, honestly, it should not have been you. My father was in that inn because of the girl."

"Sarah?"

Herbert just shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. I stopped keeping a record on those girls long ago. My father wants to have a countess for every year's midnight ball. That's always a girl from the countship. He will invite her to the ball and before they start to dance, he will drink her blood, turning her. After the ball he'll have some more fun with her. If she got his interest, she'll be allowed to warm his bed for some more nights. If she was REALLY good, she'll be allowed to join the others down there afterwards," Herbert pointed down at the cemetery, "If not, then..." Herbert snapped his fingers.

Alfred understood and after looking down once more he said: "Couldn't have been that often that one was really good." Part of him was surprised, how emotionless this story left him. Human-Alfred would probably have fainted of shock and horror. But now he felt, as if this doing was the natural right of the count. It was a strange feeling.

Herbert just nodded. "I can tell you this much: Our community grows only very slowly. Aside from not being allowed to hunt humans, the count is also the only one who has the right to change a human into a vampire. Even I must not do that. Whenever I kill a human, I have to take care that they won't rise again. But father seldom sires new vampires – aside from the yearly girl for the ball. You're the first in a very long time who was allowed to rise again." Herbert silently congratulated himself for getting to the topic, which interested him the most right now.

Alfred looked at him surprised: "Why me?"

"I've been looking for a new consort for a good while now. Someone who – amongst other - _things_ – makes this partly dull eternity more enjoyable for me. My father thought that you could be that one. He knows my taste. He was right."

Herbert granted Alfred a bonus point for not grimacing disgustedly. His expression didn't change at all, it was still very neutral.

But Alfred was intelligent enough to understand Herbert's more or less hidden hints in this sentence. He looked down again, where obviously ragged shapes roamed around.

"There was no one for you down there?" Even his voice sounded neutral, but Alfred was already thinking about Herbert's "offer".

"To the contrary. I sent the last down there about nine years ago, after I was done with him. You can forget them down there. They are apathetic, only live for this moment of the year, when they get a drop of human blood."

Alfred heard the menace in this sentence. He knew now that it was only a small step "down there". But he got the chance to postpone this moment. Obviously this should be some kind of privilege. The thought about the cemetery disquieted him somehow.

"Why do they stay? Why – don't they just go. Found their own communities, where they are lords themselves?" It was highly illogical to Alfred why anyone would cope with an existence like this.

"Because they can't. My father is their sire, he's the sire to all of us. We're bound to him. Just try to imagine for a moment to rebel against him."

"I don't even know him," Alfred punted, but Herbert ordered him to try it anyway. When he did, Alfred felt a rage flame up inside him, of which he didn't know the origin. Never would anyone bring harm to his lord and master, and much less himself.

Herbert turned to lean his back on the parapet, resting his elbows casually on the hard stone. "Our sire is here, that's why we are here too. We'd be free the moment my father ceased to exist. But not many would survive that incident. There is a reason, why a vampire-lord is a vampire-lord. He alone had had enough will for power, strength and self-assertion to get rid of his own sire, against all oppositions."

"Is this all that bounds you to your father?"

A soft smile spread over Herbert's face, when he shook his head. „He is not only my sire, he is my real father. There is more to our bonding. Vampires can feel love and sympathy, even if that is the exception."

Alfred nodded. Herbert, encouraged by the fact that Alfred had not yet declined, and that he was obviously smart enough to recognize coherencies, turned to the young man and laid a hand on his back as if by coincidence.

"Well, what do you say? Did my father choose wisely?"

Alfred had now had several minutes to think, but he still waited before giving a final answer to Herbert's request. But in truth he already had decided. The pros and cons were way too unbalanced. It was a pro of Herbert's request that he'd seem to be able to lead a privileged life, in contrary to the dull existence down at this cemetery. If he won Herbert's favor, he'd maybe also meet the goodwill of the count himself, and that could only be good. Herbert was educated and you could make good conversation with him. He had a feeling that he could cope with him, even if something told him that he would have to show strong nerves at times.

The cons were very obvious too. Alfred knew that Herbert wanted more than just his mere company. Only a few hours ago, the suggestion alone would have horrified him. Now he just felt indifferent. If anything, there maybe was a bit of curiosity. He had no experience, aside from some awkward kisses with a barmaid when he was out with his fellow students. If that was the price for a comfortable existence... He liked Herbert, he was neat. It was worth a try.

He could be down at the cemetery quickly enough...

"Since you'll go hunting with me, you'll get some human blood way more often than they..." Herbert lured him, when the waiting became too much.

If Alfred had needed a last pro argument, this was it. He had no idea what human blood tasted like, but his whole body vibrated only thinking about it. He guessed it was the thing a vampire yearned for most.

The young student lifted his gaze, which had been settled on the pitiable creatures between the graves and looked into Herbert's ice-blue eyes, that were so like those of his father.

"I'll try. I have no experience though."

Herbert smirked, while a knot unraveled in his guts. "With other men?"

Alfred couldn't help but grin himself. "At all," he answered.

Herbert took his hand from Alfred's back and laid the fingers under Alfred's chin. The young vampire liked the feeling of this. Herbert's face came close to his and the student was sure that the elder would kiss him now. But right before their lips met, Herbert paused. Alfred could almost feel the other's mouth and almost wished for Herbert to break this tension. But the count's son only whispered "I'll show you", rested for another moment and drew back.

Herbert turned and went towards the tower with the staircase that led back down into the castle. Alfred grinned, pushed himself from the parapet and following. He had a feeling that this could get amusing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

During the next thirty minutes Herbert showed the more important castle-rooms to Alfred, before they descended into the family crypt.

"This is where my father spends the day-rest," Herbert explained, pointing to a huge, richly adorned stone-sarcophagus that rested in the middle of the crypt on a small gallery. "And this is mine," Herbert referred to the sarcophagus beside the first one.

"When will I meet your father?" Alfred asked. He had not seen a trace of his sire during the small tour through the castle.

"I guess tomorrow. He'll be quite late today." Herbert shoved the heavy stone-lid away and Alfred gazed into the coffin curiously. To his surprise it looked really comfortable.

"Where will I sleep?" he asked and looked around. He guessed that the other very old looking shrines weren't empty and that the inhabitants were unlikely to ever rise again.

"Well, in here of course. And it's time too, to go to rest. So – if you please..." Herbert showed him into his sarcophagus. To his delight Alfred climbed into the coffin without hesitating at all. Full of anticipation Herbert followed him. How long had he laid in there alone now? And it was so comfortable two by two. He couldn't understand his father, who wouldn't have it.

Herbert von Krolock's stone-sarcophagus was bigger and roomier than the wooden coffins out there at the cemetery. Still, two grown men, however slender they were, had to squeeze in there. Or, how Herbert prefered to call it: cuddle in there. Alfred didn't even try to avoid physical contact. Willingly he opened up his arms and allowed the count's son to snuggle in there. He wanted to be good in his new "job".

He really didn't want to be in that cemetery.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The big shadow, that was Breda von Krolock, was sneaking through the lonely village-streets again. His faithful Mephisto waited at the edge of the forest for him and his prey. Soon he reached the inn again. All was quiet now. Did they discover the disappearing of the boy? Breda glanced around the corner of the house and looked up to the attic. The window of the bathroom was closed. So they knew. He'd have to be twice as careful now.

He took his familiar way up to the roof and went to the right chimney without hesitating. There was no need to stick his head into the duct, he could smell the holy water from afar. He made a nauseated grimace and was glad that he had no need to breathe, even though he usually did by custom.

So they took precautions and dappled the chimney with holy water. And he didn't know yet, what awaited him down the duct. This way was barred for him. But beneath the bathroom-window was a ledge and gracefully like a cat Breda climbed onto it. A short firm push against the window was enough. The wood could not withstand his vampiric powers and the window swung open. Breda paused on the sill and looked around the room.

His look fell on the door to the chamber of the inn-keeper's daughter, who he wanted to steal tonight. It had been barred earlier this evening already. New were the bulbs of garlic, one beside the other. Breda smirked. This was all the humans could think of? Holy water in the chimney and garlic at the door? How naive. And ridiculous.

Had the count looked above at the ceiling, or listened to the augmented heartbeats in the house, he would have had a different view of things – and had turned around on the spot to flee.

But almost 300 years of easy hunting had made him careless. Along with that came the pressure he felt. He had to take his prey tonight, so that she could be ready and willing for the ball tomorrow night.

He entered the room and went to the door, which was the only thing between the girl and himself anymore. He began to loosen the planks one by one. He just drew them away effortlessly, silently, with barely any sound. Finally his way was free and he put a hand to the handle and opened the door softly. It was lucky that Sarah always cared for this door to be oiled perfectly, since she needed it to sneak into the beloved bathroom, so it made no sound. He stepped into the small bedchamber and looked at the sleeping beauty, whose shimmery, coppery hair spread over the pillow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sarah slept uneasily and always started when she drifted into sleep. She could not forget the blood-red bathwater. She understood Alfred to be dead. That was terrible. He has been so young. And so nice. So different from the other boys in the village. Educated and polite.

She was nervous because she didn't know what all the men had done in her chamber before she was allowed to go back in there and lay down. Frightened, her fingers closed around the iron crucifix the old professor had given to her. Her father had told her about a dozen times that she must not let go of it at all costs. All the night long. Worried she might lose it after all, her finger cramped from time to time.

Sarah had no idea what happened, but it scared her. Again she had drifted off and once again she started. Her first thought went to the crucifix, but she relaxed when she felt that the cold material was still between her fingers. Just as she wanted to give sleep another try, she heard a plank creak. Nervous, as she was, she sat bolt upright in her bed within milliseconds and stared with open eyes into the darkness.

There was a shadow in front of her bed and behind this shadow, the door to the bathroom was wide open. The door, her father had boarded up yesterday. That was just the final straw. Sarah sucked in breath and screamed as loud as she could.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda felt the plank giving way under his foot, creaking softly. Soft, but enough to rip the girl out of her sleep. Suddenly she was sitting in bed and staring at him wide-eyed. When he saw her taking a deep breath, he wanted to rush to her and hush her, but it was like running into a wall. Too late he realized the small item in the girl's hands.

A crucifix? In the house of a Jew? In the Jew's screaming daughter's hands?

A trap. It was a damn trap. He had just enough time to come to this conclusion and turn around to run, but it was too late. Suddenly a huge net fell down from the ceiling and engulfed him completely.

_TBC_


	4. Un unexpected journey

_Hey there! _

_Here's the next chapter. There was a bit of a delay, because my beta-reader Slaycinder was apparently eaten by time-monsters. Hope you're alright... _

_I would like to thank dear Datura Writii who took over beta-reading. You saved this story!_

_To Queenmedesa: In this story Sarah is nothing to the Count, except for a beauty he had long waited for. Sarah's part in this story is almost over, I'm concentrating on Herbert/ Alfred and the Count. I've written other stories, in which Sarah is indeed Breda's true love, so I know what you mean. But it's not like this in this story. I'm sorry. _

**An Unexpected Journey**

The men that Magda had managed to round up worked feverishly in the attic of the inn. Madame Chagal, Sarah, and the maiden were banned to the kitchen for the moment in order to keep them out of the way.

In the midst of the chaos, the Professor scurried around, bellowing instructions. "The hole must not be that big, but large enough for the rope to run swimmingly. It must not get stuck. So it must be smooth, really smooth," he reminded the man who was standing on a ladder in the bathroom, drilling a hole into the wall between this and the next room – Sarah's chamber. The farmer settled for rolling his eyes – the old man got on his nerves. He had made the same kind of hole already, one into the wall between the bathroom and guest chamber.

"Here is the net," Chagal announced when he and two fellows entered. They had dragged the heavy thing through the whole village. It was pure luck that there was a rope maker living in the village that delivered to all the fishermen in the area.

Abronsius turned to the newcomers and nodded contentedly. "Well then, let's get started. We already have applied the appropriate hooks and eyes to the ceiling. Let us now build the trap."

They needed five men to apply the heavy net to the ceiling. Three had to be replaced until the Professor was contented with the outcome – their arms just couldn't hold out any longer.

"Well now, the rope," the Professor announced finally, allowing the men to take a deep breath. A young craftsman braided the rope through the construct, closely following the instructions of the scientist. Then, he pulled the rope through the two small holes so that the end part was finally dangling in the guest chamber.

As soon as it was hanging there, Abronsius pulled enthusiastically and heard, with a deeply felt satisfaction, the falling net two chambers away. His construction worked.

Chagal, who had just shaken out his aching arms, breathing heavily, looked up, aghast. "Wh...Wha... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Well, that was the test, to see if it works," Professor Abronsius explained, unmoved and obviously oblivious to the murderous stares of the men around him. "Come now, no need to pretend to be tired. The net must be on the ceiling EXACTLY as it was just now. Well, what are you waiting for? You should know now how it is to be done."

Since it was no use to argue and the men knew what was at stake, they went back to work, grumbling. The second time it was completed quickly. When the construct was back on the ceiling, Abronsius gathered the men around him.

"Listen to me. When the bastard comes back later, he will most likely enter through that window in the bathroom, since I flecked the chimney with holy water. This, along with the garlic at the door, will show him that the inhabitants of this house responded to his last visit. Otherwise, he'll smell a rat and disappear. He'll trespass into Miss Chagal's room – this door is no real hindrance for him – and then he'll be trapped. When the net engulfs him, we'll storm into the room – you three will take care that the net will ensnare him. You two will see that his hands are accessible for me. All the others will keep him at bay with the crucifixes. I'll apply the silver handcuffs. Then, we'll drag him into the coal-cellar and the terror will stop."

"How will we know when to pull the rope?" one of the men asked.

"When the girl screams, of course." Abronsius shuddered, considering his lack of logical thinking.

He glanced around, and the men stared back at him, partly doubting, partly anxious, but, most importantly, determined. Abronsius would have liked to have braver and stronger men, but he had to live with what he got.

"Well, everyone in position," he finished his speech and stayed behind with half the men in the guest room, while the rest went to a cubby opposite Sarah's room. The inn-keeper went to send the women to bed and inculcated Sarah once more with keeping the crucifix in her hands at all times. It was completely un-Jewish, but if it saved his daughter, he could accept it. Chagal was not thrilled for his daughter (who didn't know any of the plan) to be the decoy, but he saw, too, that it was the only way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Konstantin Abronsius' plan had worked as it should. When the men stormed into the girl's room, where Chagal tended at once for his still hysterically screaming daughter, the dark creature squirmed in the net and tried desperately, to find a way out of the ropes.

As discussed, five men leapt on the struggling vampire and made sure that the net's meshes kept him busy. The defense of the vampire grew less as more crosses were directed at him. The Professor observed in fascination at how these religious items seemed to draw the strength out of the creature. In the end, it took almost no effort for the two men to pull the hands of the vampire through the mesh so that Abronsius could fasten the cuffs of purest silver to his wrists.

The vampire hissed when the metal came in contact with his skin and it was evident that it caused him pain. Abronsius' pity was low, though. Indeed, there was pure satisfaction in seeing the demon suffer – after all, it had had no pity for poor Alfred. But the Professor never would admit to himself that he was able to harbor such human emotions.

The vampire didn't struggle anymore. Closing the net around him, they dragged him down into the cellar where the coals were stored. They had no regards for his uncomfortable pounding on every step of the stairs. Each and every one of them had lost at least one family member to those creatures of night – this small bit of vengeance was quite welcome.

In the cellar, they bound the net up, soaking the tight knots with holy water as Abronsius attached the handcuffs to chains set within the wall. Afterwards, they all went up to the barroom and Chagal, drunken with joy about Sarah's saving, wasn't penurious for once – everyone got a free beer.

Abronsius didn't take part in the spree. He sat in the flickering light of an oil lamp opposite the creature he had been searching for for decades. He was staring back with pain filled and hateful eyes.

If only Alfred could have been here.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda von Krolock silently chided himself while he tried undauntedly to get free from the tangle of ropes and knots. But instead of getting free, he seemed to entangle himself more with each movement.

Already there came men storming into the room from two sides – how could he have been that careless? He should have noticed this mass of heartbeats while the girl's screams kept on droning painfully in his ears. Some of the men lunged at him, leaving scarce chance to get out of the net. Furthermore, his powers were paralyzed more with every minute. He didn't have to take a look around to know that there were many crucifixes directed at him.

Finally, he ceased his struggling. There was no point anymore; he had no chance to escape. At present. He would have to stay calm, keep a cool head, and wait for the right moment.

That hope of freedom was dashed when an old, lean man applied silver handcuffs to him. The metal burned devilishly into his skin. It would made it nearly impossible to move his hands as long as they were bound like this.

The men dragged him downstairs and he made painful contact with each and every step. How did he get into this situation, helpless as a fish in a net?

At least they brought him into a windowless room, where they bound up the net (thanks to the holy water he would never be able to loosen the knots himself) and chained him to the wall.

While the villagers went up to celebrate their triumph over him, the odd old man sat down opposite him and stared at him with blatant interest. It was obvious to him that his current situation must be all owed to this stranger. The villagers were way too simple to set a neat trap like this. Breda had to grudgingly admit that he felt a certain respect for the old man – no one had ever been able to get him in an affliction like this within almost 300 years.

"Did he taste good?" the old man asked now and Breda thought he heard a certain sadness in his voice.

"Your traveling companion?" he answered with his own question. He knew the old man meant the boy he had found in the tub instead of the inn-keeper's daughter. Everything had gone wrong tonight.

"My assistant," the old man confirmed. "My name is Professor Konstantin Abronsius, chair for natural sciences at the University of Königsberg and besides, studying..."

"Vampires," Breda finished the sentence for him, using the small break the old man placed to end it pompously, and was filled with satisfaction to see the disappointment in the old man's face. "To answer your question; yes, his blood was delicious. I gave his body to the wolves."

Unfortunately, the old man seemed not as distraught at this news, as he had hoped him to be. There was a certain pain in his eyes, but he seemed to be rather relieved.

"That's good. So his soul is saved," the old man confirmed his suspicion.

Damn it. How could he have known that the truth would have been worse for him? What's happened to the terror of a maimed body?

"What are your plans for me?" Breda asked now. Since he had not been destroyed yet, he was sure that was not the immediate aim of the old man. He surely knew how a vampire's demise had to be brought on.

"Well, we both will go on a journey. I want the Nobel Prize to have my name on it by proving the existence of creatures like you to the world. But then again, you probably have no idea what that is."

"Alfred Nobel is the inventor of dynamite – amongst other things. He left a small fortune after his death, which he wanted to be used to support other scientists with their studies. So, since four years ago _(*1901)_ every year scientists that made great inventions are awarded this prize. I might be a vampire, but I'm not behind the times," he countered. He wasn't just any farmer lob, but a count! Literate, educated, and indeed interested in the outside world's affairs.

The old man nodded approvingly. "I see, I speak with a man of education. Well, that could make the journey more enjoyable."

"My subjects will come and get me out of here before that," Breda announced.

"I don't think so. Sun will rise in less than an hour and then no one will come, except for the carpenter with the finished, light-tight coffin that I will put you in. And then our journey will finally begin. By the time darkness falls, we will already be far, far away from here."

Breda stared at the old man, speechless for once. He could not prevent a wave of desperation washing over him.

Herbert...

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Herbert woke the next evening entirely satisfied. He laid in his comfortable sarcophagus and felt the body of the boy his father brought him yesterday beneath him. Keeping his eyes firmly closed, he tried to remember his appearance. When he pictured the shining green eyes, the flawless face with the prominent cheekbones, the firm and well-proportioned butt, along with the blond wisps falling over his forehead, he wondered if the boy was really that pretty or if he was imagining things.

Alfred. He had not talked that much about himself, but there was time enough for that. It was adequate to know that he was intelligent enough to realise that his offer was a fair better option than the cemetery. He had said that he had no experiences. However, he knew exactly what Herbert wanted from him – amongst other things. Well, it was no problem for him. Most of the young men Herbert had taken into his bed had been unexperienced – at least relating to men. He had only met two young men in his whole existence that had really shared his inclination. And one of them had not been to his taste. The others were more or less responsive to the things he was doing with them. Depending on that, they ended up, sooner or later, at the graveyard.

He was eager to find out which sort Alfred was of. Yesterday, he had seemed quite impassive, but he had also stepped into his sarcophagus without hesitation, welcoming him in his arms. Herbert didn't want to keep his hopes too impossibly high, but he could not prevent picturing the upcoming years in brightest colors. He sighed silently. If it only could be true.

The small sigh woke Alfred from his death-like sleep. He opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented for the moment. He was in a coffin. A quite comfortable coffin, he had to admit, but a coffin nevertheless. He recalled that he had died yesterday and rose again as a vampire. This was the coffin of his sire's son. And this son, Herbert von Krolock, heir to the count, laid in his arms. He remembered the bargain of last night. Up to now it had been quite enjoyable. There was nothing awful in holding the slender body of the count's son in his arms. Quite actually, it gave him some comfort.

Herbert opened his eyes in order to compare memory and reality. The young man lying with him was indeed as pretty as his remembrance told him. And those green eyes simply gazed back, giving him the feeling that they could look right through him. Slowly, he lifted a hand and brought it to Alfred's cheeks. Tenderly, he laid some fingers on the soft skin, his thumb brushing lightly over the full lips. Alfred didn't retreat, just continued staring intently at him. If only he could know what he was thinking at the moment. The soft lips lured him, and he decided to conquer them now, making this first part of Alfred his own. He stretched his head towards the one below it and laid his lips cautiously against Alfred's. It was only a very light contact, but it sent shivers down his spine nevertheless.

Alfred still didn't back away, but he didn't exactly respond, either. Oh, so carefully, Herbert enforced the pressure, started to play with Alfred's lips, picked at them, the entire time trying to internalize Alfred's taste. He softly jabbed his tongue against the lips and, to his pleasure, Alfred opened them willingly. Herbert's tongue shot out and explored the unfamiliar mouth. Soon he dueled with Alfred's tongue. Alfred was no absolute newcomer when it came to kissing; that much was sure.

Alfred was honestly astounded. He never had believed it possible to be that pleasant to kiss another man. Especially since Herbert kissed completely different from the bar-maid. With her, kissing had resembled a fight, but this now was far more like a dance. Herbert lured, seduced, tempted, bewitched – and Alfred found himself responding to this invitation completely.

Alfred was so drawn into this game of tongues that his brain had a hard time noticing the hand that had somehow found its way under his shirt. Sharp fingernails scratched tenderly over his skin and sent shivers down his spine. The hand wandered deeper, left the shirt again, and caressed his bottom, pinching a bit, as if to test the firmness. Alfred didn't mind. His body was the prince's now; he had promised it.

Herbert was happy. Alfred was a good kisser and learned quickly. This butt was a dream, he'd love to...

But suddenly they were interrupted by a loud shuffling from above. Confused, they both looked upwards and saw that the lid had been opened.

"Koukól!" Herbert called angrily, frustrated when he recognized the servant. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Maaaaaastr," came the cripple's long, drawn-out answer. He pointed at the neighboring sarcophagus.

"What about my father?" Herbert asked impatiently.

"Noddere," announced the servant, causing Alfred to wonder what language this man might speak – Romanian, perhaps? But he suddenly understood when Herbert asked:

"What do you mean, my father is not there? Where might he be? It's the midnight ball tonight."

"Noddere," the servant repeated and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Herbert sighed in irritation. He had no idea why his father liked this nasty piece of work that much. According to him, he found him "amusing". Herbert had had better laughs for sure. He got up, stretched, and climbed gracefully out of the sarcophagus. Alfred followed him and eyed up the cripple interestedly.

"What of the guest? Did father bring the girl to the castle yesterday?"

When the servant only shook his head, Herbert felt the first wisps of concern.

"What girl?" asked Alfred.

Herbert turned to Alfred. "Well, the girl for the ball tonight. The yearly midnight ball I told you about. It's tonight and Dad wanted to claim his bride. He had to go twice, because on his first try, he ended up with you instead of the girl."

"Just a moment – you say he went back to the inn yesterday?"

Herbert nodded and ran his fingers through his hair helplessly. Perhaps it had gotten too late to manage the whole way back to the castle and his father had taken refuge in one of the safety shelters all around the area? But even then, he should have been home by now.

Alfred felt a knot building in his guts. Could it be...? No, Herbert told him yesterday that they would know if their sire did not exist anymore. But he still felt worried.

"We must go to the village," he informed Herbert calmly, though he didn't feel calm at all.

Herbert looked at him, puzzled. "Why?"

"The professor, the one I told you about yesterday?"

"The one who taught you basic knowledge about vampires?"

Alfred nodded in conformation. "He is there, too. I came here with him, as his assistant. To... to tell you the truth, we came here to prove the existence of vampires. We were looking for evidence."

Herbert stared at him, his mind not yet ready to accept the consequence of Alfred's words.

"They must have noticed my disappearance," Alfred continued, "My professor would have known what has happened. And do you think that he didn't adopt measures, in case the vampire came back?"

Herbert stared at him some more seconds before ordering Koukól to prepare two horses. He took Alfred's sleeve and dragged him after him.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Herbert's voice was accusatory and aggressive.

"Well, I thought it wouldn't make a good first impression if I introduced myself as a vampire hunter. And you never mentioned your father planning to go back to the inn," Alfred defended.

Herbert could tell the truth in this, but he was still too angry to be just. He dragged Alfred rudely to his quarters. There, he threw him a traveling cloak and some riding boots, while he took the same kind of clothes for himself.

Only minutes later, they were down in the stables and Herbert waited, growling impatiently, for the stable-boy and his aid to finally ready the horses. Eventually, they could mount and Herbert urged his gelding on, not caring if Alfred and his mare would be able to follow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They left their horses at the edge of the forest and approached the inn. Alfred stayed behind Herbert, since he lacked vampire hunting techniques. Soon, they stood in the shadows of a shack that bordered Chagal's inn. There was much turmoil in the barroom, possibly louder and more exuberant than Alfred had ever witnessed in the previous evenings.

It was impossible to catch something useful from the scraps of conversation that they could hear through all the noise. But, after some waiting, they heard finally someone say: "I'll be right back," from the back door. Obviously, someone left the pub to pass some water.

Herbert signed Alfred to stay behind. The count's heir left the shadows and crept around the corner and into Chagal's backyard. Alfred couldn't see what happened next, exactly. But Herbert was back only seconds later, detaining a struggling person whose mouth he held closed with one hand.

Herbert pressed the man to the wall of the shack, keeping the hand tightly over his mouth. Alfred knew the man by sight.

"Listen – you don't have to die. But should you even so much as pipe up too loudly, I'll rip out your throat. Are we clear?" Herbert growled and the man nodded with wide open eyes.

Cautiously, Herbert drew back his hand, ready to press it back again anytime. But the mortally scared prisoner remained silent, if one ignored his panicked gasping.

"What did the Professor do with my father?" Herbert believed it to be best to pretend he knew everything but this detail. "Go on, talk if you value your life."

"H...He...He..." the man stuttered, not able to utter a single word.

Herbert decided to enforce his interrogation by showing the man his bared fangs and hissing. It seemed to work. The man whimpered piteously and lost what little color that was left on his face, but he regained ability to speak.

"He took him. In a coffin. They left this forenoon. He wants to prove their existence. I don't know anything else," he wheezed, crossing his arms before his chest. "Really."

"I believe you," Herbert said at length and he plunged his teeth into the man's neck at the same moment he crushed his larynx with his fingers. No sound came from the dying man.

Alfred was completely taken by surprise from the smell of the blood. Never before had he wanted something so much. Greedily, he watched Herbert as he drank in big gulps, wasting not one drop. It was all Alfred could do to restrain himself from prying Herbert from his prey, for he knew instinctively that he would not survive this attempt. He was the subordinate vampire after all. He was almost horrified when he realised that he was whining, just like a dog begging for a spare bone.

Herbert believed Alfred to scarcely deserve any of it. Without him, there would not be any problems. A smaller, more just voice in the back of his head reminded him that Alfred was hardly to be held accountable. Plus, Alfred would need his strength. So, Herbert abandoned the man while there were still a few gulps of blood remaining and threw the body to the newly risen vampire.

Alfred lunged at him with a relieved growl and bit, sucked, and licked until no trace of blood could be found anymore. Nothing had ever tasted that sweet; nothing that strengthened him more. When he finally gave up on finding another trace, he backed away and started when Herbert drove a broken piece of wood from the fence through the corpse's breast without missing a beat.

"Come on," he snarled, and Alfred followed. They went back to the forest to their horses.

"Where will he bring my father?" Herbert asked tensely.

Alfred had thought about this as soon as he had been able to think straight again (meaning: leaving the smell of the human blood behind). He spent the past three years at the Professor's side. He guessed he knew him and his thinking quite well. What would Abronsius do?

He felt scared for the count. His every wish was to free him. At the same time he realized the absurdity of this – he didn't even know that vampire. The bonding between sire and sired that Herbert had talked of must really be strong.

"We're from Königsberg, his chair is at the university there. He will be on his way there. At first. He'll pass Cracow on the way. He won't be able to keep his find silent by then – and it's still a long way to Königsberg. He'll stay in Cracow and will visit its university. He'll try to find a scientist willing to hear his story about vampires and survey his proof. Your father won't play along and therefore the scientists won't believe my professor. He'll probably even get in trouble, since I won't be there to keep him out of it and protect him from himself. He'll start to think that Königsberg would be the same failure as Cracow. He is in need for an ally, one, who is ready to listen to him and who will add to his credibility. So, he'll turn to Vienna, to Professor Alibori, who is also studying vampires and who was his biggest rival up to now. If we went to Vienna now, we could be there when they arrive." Hope flared up in his eyes.

Herbert was less confident than his companion. "There are too many "if"s. What if you're wrong?"

"When he doesn't stop in Cracow and journeys through to Königsberg – then we can't overtake him, no matter what we'll do. Then he will prove the existence of vampires there, somehow, and afterwards he'll stake the count – we'd be too late. It has to be the other way," Alfred explained dryly. "I know him. I'm quite sure it will be that way. Vienna is the city we have to go to. And as quickly as possible. We will find and free him there," he added, comforting Herbert as much as himself.

Herbert would never have believed that he'd see the day that he left for a long journey without any luggage. But now that day had come. He nodded, climbed up his horse, and cantered away, into uncertainty. Alfred followed. If Alfred was right, if all ended well – Alfred would never have to go to the cemetery.

**_TBC_**


	5. Assistances

**Assistances**

They rode all night long, only making short breaks for their animals to drink some water. After a few hours Alfred began to feel the skin of his inner thighs going sore, even though the leather of the saddle was well manufactured and cared for. He just wasn't used to such a forced ride. To tell the truth, he wasn't even used to longer rides. He had learned riding as a small kid, as it was right and proper for a member of the landed gentry, but he had never been prone to the sport. Actually, he wasn't prone to any sports at all, clumsy and inept as he was.

But Alfred didn't complain. His whole being wished to free his count of the hands of his old mentor. Herbert, who led the way, seemed to be even more determined. But then, he had an even stronger bonding to his father.

Alfred felt a little guilty. All of this could have been prevented if only he hadn't been that silent yesterday; if he had just told Herbert directly what he and his professor came to Transylvania for, none of this would have happened. But it had seemed wiser yesterday to keep that detail to himself. If only Herbert had mentioned his father wanting to return to the inn...

But pondering and compunction didn't help. The Count was in the Professor's clutch and it was down to him and Herbert to rescue him.

Finally, Herbert halted. They had reached a small shack in the middle of the forest. Alfred had no idea where they were. But there was a stable alongside the dwelling that contained hay and oats, which surprised him, since the shack was clearly uninhabited. After they got off the horses, they led the animals into the stable.

"Can you go and fetch some water?" Herbert asked of him. They were the first words he had spoken since they left Chagal's village. Herbert's voice sounded tired and weary, and he walked as uneven as Alfred did.

Alfred nodded, took the two big buckets that Herbert gave him, and went outside, where he found a well after a small search around. He put the first bucket beneath the tap and turned to the pump. It looked deeply rusted and Alfred doubted that a weed like him could ever move it. He took a deep breath, placed both hands on top of the lever, assembled his forces, and pressed against it with his whole weight, to push it down. It unfortunately ended with him landing face first into the damp earth because he had underestimated his new vampiric strength completely and the pump budged far easier than he'd expected it to.

He rose and stared, confused, at his muddy hands, to the pump, and back again. He was lucky the lever didn't break during this act – it had been a close call. Way more cautiously, he filled the two buckets with water up to the brim and brought them back into the stable effortlessly. Alfred smiled. He liked this newfound discovery. Finally he wasn't the weakest person anymore. He'd really like to talk to some of his former classmates or fellows right about now...

In the meantime, Herbert had filled the mangers with oats and brought hay into the boxes and was about to free his animal of its tack and rub it with straw. Alfred followed suit and cared for his mare. The completely wet horse drank and fed greedily and Alfred looked worriedly at the trembling flanks and legs of the animal. How far would they have to ride? The horses wouldn't survive many more of those forced rides.

After they had cared for the animals as best as they could, Herbert said, "Come," and Alfred followed him into the shed.

Exhausted, Herbert sat down at a table in a sparsely furnished kitchen, Alfred soon following suit.

"We can't go on any farther tonight," Herbert explained. "This is one of the last shelters we built between castle and Kronstadt _(A/N: today: Brasov)_. There is a hidden trapdoor leading into a windowless cellar. Only some short hours of riding tomorrow and we'll reach Kronstadt. We'll have to see how we'll get to Vienna from there. I know some people to talk to. But I'm quite sure it won't be a comfortable journey."

Alfred nodded. "Travelling is surely a bit more complicated for vampires."

Herbert managed a weak smile. "Not necessarily. At least if you have planned it thoroughly beforehand."

Herbert pulled himself together and rose again. "There's just the cold water from the well for washing, I'm afraid to say."

"Wait – I'll go and fetch some. Now that I know how the pump works," he added silently, rising to look for a bowl before he went to fetch the water.

When he came back, Herbert said, "Just go first, I'll see to the horses once more," and somehow Alfred was glad that he was left at least this last bit of privacy. He freed himself of his clothes and washed hastily. The water was uncomfortably cold, but he guessed it would have bothered a human more than it did him. He hardly froze at all.

After he had washed the dirt from his skin, he looked at his clothes, sighing. He'd worn them since yesterday, had slept in them, and undertook this ride in them. He could imagine better things than to don them again. But there was no other possibility. To wash the cloth and just wear the traveling cloak while sleeping was futile – it was way too cold and clammy in the shed for them to dry until evening. So he put them on again, feeling as dirty as before washing.

Alfred took the bowl, went back outside, shed the water away, and went to the well to pump new water for Herbert. He then saw a shape sitting on a rock in the dark a bit farther away from the shack, staring into the ever brighter sky. Herbert looked lost and vulnerable as he sat there and Alfred felt, again, that twinge of guilt he simply couldn't get rid of. He put the bowl down and went to Herbert. He hesitated another second before sitting down beside the count's heir and pulling him into his arms. Herbert laid his head amiably on his shoulder.

"We'll find him and free him," Alfred repeated his words from earlier that night and stroke Herbert's silk-smooth hair consolingly.

"Will he hurt him? Torture him?" Herbert whispered and Alfred heard imminent tears in his voice. It soothed him somehow to see that a creature like himself was still able to such emotions. He pondered his answer, before he said:

"Professor Abronsius is not the man to inflict pain on any creature just for the fun of it. If he did, then only to protect himself." Alfred remembered the silver handcuffs in Abronsius' luggage. If his professor's theory was right, then they could bring the count severe pain. But he didn't want to ask Herbert right now if silver really was that harmful to vampires. That would only lead to other questions and Herbert would probably feel worse afterwards. For now, he seemed consoled and relaxed a little in Alfred's arms. It was best to keep it that way.

Alfred couldn't tell how long they sat there like this. Eventually, Herbert spoke. "We have to get inside," he said as he rose and wiped over his face with his sleeve. The comfort Alfred's arms gave him did him well, and he wished he could have met Alfred in other circumstances. But that was impossible right now.

Alfred filled the bowl up and brought it in, but Herbert contented himself with a very quick wash. He then showed Alfred the trapdoor that matched so perfectly into the floor that hardly anyone would find it if they didn't knew it to be there. They went into the room beneath. It was furnished with five coffins, aside from some more or less clean mattresses, pillows, and blankets.

"Would you mind not sleeping in a coffin today? It's … too narrow for two," Herbert asked and Alfred was surprised he was given a choice.

"Sure," he merely said as he chose the cleanest mattress and laid down. At once Herbert crawled to him, cuddled into his arms and fell asleep almost immediately. Alfred, tired out by the night's events, followed him into sleep not long after.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

About half an hour after Alfred and Herbert had struggled into the saddles once more, Breda von Krolock woke from the day's rest.

Even before he opened his eyes, he could tell that there were changes from the night before. Last night, he had lain in a tightly closed coffin, without any means to escape. The net, which had been used to capture him, was still slung around his body. That had been irritating and uncomfortable, not to mention the fact that they obviously were travelling by a coach and the uneven ground earned him some bruises. But the worst had been the cuffs still binding his hands. The agony had become almost unendurable.

Now he no longer lay in the coffin, but sat upright, apparently leaned against a wall. Plus, the pain in his wrists had disappeared. The net was unfortunately still surrounding him. Well, as long as his hands were free, he'd find a way out of there.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and immediately saw the old, white-haired man, who had gotten him into this situation initially. The man showed him his back, sitting on a small table, deeply immersed into the book he was scribbling in. Breda looked around. This was most likely a guest room. His prison-coffin laid open beside the bed.

But when the count came back to his own situation, he felt frustration well up inside him. He should have known the old man to be too smart to make it that easy for him. His situation had gotten better as well as worse.

Worse, because now there were not only silver cuffs applied to his wrists, but also to his ankles. Better, for his wrists and ankles were bandaged with some cloth now, so that the torturing metal no longer made contact with his skin. This saved him from a lot of pain, but made escape simply impossible. He could not free himself!

He looked up when he realized that the scribbling of the quill had stopped. Indeed, the old man had begun to watch him with interest.

"Oh, we're awake? I allowed myself to reduce the effect of that silver a bit. I don't want to present a vampire to public whose hands and feet have fallen off. I just wrote down what kind of injuries the cuffs have caused to your skin. Very interesting, indeed."

"I believe it to be more regrettable than interesting," Breda snapped back.

"Well, to regret, you need to feel remorse, and remorse is something vampires don't know, so why mention it?"

"Why do you believe that vampires can't feel remorse?" Breda found himself honestly interested in the answer.

The Professor just looked at him, confused. "Isn't that plain? When the human dies and the demon takes possession of his body, his soul is lost. And the soul is the thing to enable feelings such as love, remorse, hate, grief..."

"I don't know about souls and what happens to them when you turn into a vampire. But I can assure you that I can feel all of those emotions sincerely," Breda explained calmly and smiled a bit when a look of deepest disbelief met him.

"Vampires are masters of lies and lures. Of course you'd tell me things to fascinate me. You undoubtedly want to make me an ally to you and then set you free after realising you're not that bad."

Breda chuckled. This suspicion was amusing – and appropriate.

"Another small mistake. Your studies are incomplete and wrong at some points, obviously. It's right that we seduce humans. But this charm only works for the opposite sex. As long as you do not have a much darker secret than I, you're safe from my charm. But I'd still be happy if you set me free."

The Professor stared almost longingly at his book on the table. Breda could just feel how the old man languished to scribble down these new theories. He decided to keep him a bit from it. It could be his only bit of fun for the next time.

"Where are we?" he asked the old man.

"Oh no, I won't tell you. Just this much: Tomorrow morning this coffin will be brought on board a train, which will take you far away from Transylvania."

"Then we must be in Kronstadt, and you already told me that you intend to take me to Königsberg. Why don't you want to tell me?" Breda was interested in the man's mysterious motives.

"Well, so you can't tell your vampire friends via telepathy where you are and where they have to look for you. Apart from this, I had a lot of time to think about my next steps and have decided that I won't take you to Königsberg."

Breda smirked. Yes, they were powerful creatures, superior to humans in many ways. But their power had limits. They could not fly, as many believed, nor were they skin-changers, nor could they influence the weather. Telepathy was one of the many myths that were at least partly true. But it was only possible in narrow limits; you needed strong bonds and trust in the other vampire – for it was a two-way street. And one surely didn't want just anyone being able to read his or her thoughts. It was also locally limited. He had this kind of connection with Herbert. But they had to be close, to find the mind of the other one. The distance between castle and inn had been too huge, for example.

Did the Professor really change his plans? Why? If he told the truth, possible pursuers would really have a hard time. Herbert had probably found out by now that the Professor came from Königsberg – if the villagers had been able to keep the town's name in mind over more than some hours. But then there was the young assistant too. Possibly he had an idea? Breda could just hope for it.

Professor Abronsius watched his prisoner sharply, who just smirked but didn't say anything back. He took it as an admission and congratulated himself for his decisions. He really had done a lot of thinking during the two-day coach ride. His thoughts had wandered to Alfred more than once and he had tried to imagine what he would have said to it all.

Alfred had always been more realistic than him, he was the one to lift the moral finger whenever the professor had forgotten anything in his excitement. Oh, of course he had noticed it! That's why he had liked this assistant so much. Alfred himself believed to have intervened without him noticing. For he would never have told him bluntly. But he would not be Professor Abronsius if he hadn't downright looked past Alfred's doings.

This imaginary Alfred had recited the possible failures of a journey to Königsberg. At first there was the possibility of vampires following them to free the Count. Then imaginary Alfred pointed out that it'd be hard for them to find enough – if any – scientist they could convince to look at the vampire and believe their eyes.

He had to look for an ally who added to his credibility. They would not believe one scientist claiming to have caught a – well – "living" vampire. Two scientists, maybe. And there was but one colleague who would believe him at once.

Gianni Alibori, chair in Vienna, who studied the myth of vampires himself. How often had they exchanged theories and quarreled passionately on the topic? They estranged finally over the question that originally established the reflection theory (which Abronsius had already verified, using a small hand mirror).

So, since Alibori had the annoying habit of stealing other people's success, Abronsius took precautions. He had written and sent a letter to a colleague in Königsberg already, stating his discovery with a certified date. So Alibori couldn't steal his merit. But he need not know this until they had won the belief of other scientists.

He watched the count taxingly, took his book and the pen, and determined to give this probably sleepless night a purpose. "I have some questions for you and would be very grateful if you answered them as accurate as possible."

"Will you get me out of this net in turn?" came the counter question rather promptly.

Abronsius shook his head. "No. I like my life and the more there is restricting you of attacking me, the better. Moreover, this net might be annoying, but it doesn't hurt you."

"So, why should I answer? Where lies the value for me?"

"Well, if you cooperate, I promise I won't remove the bandages around your wrists and ankles when I put you back into the coffin."

Breda glared darkly at the old man. Well, it surely couldn't hurt? Either he got freed and the Professor was killed along with his knowledge, or their secrets would be revealed anyway. He was quite sure there'd be many tests with him as a research object. Furthermore, it would make this night more entertaining and Abronsius obviously had the better argument – he didn't want to feel that silver again. So he said: "Well, ask away then."

Professor Abronsius' eyes began to shine and it was all he could do to restrain himself from clapping his hands. "Well, first question: I already observed that your reflection doesn't appear in my small hand mirror. Is it the same with any reflecting surface, such as water, or are there exceptions?"

Breda took a deep breath before he exhaled an answer...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Alfred slid off the horse's back hours later, he thought for a moment to be unable to complete just one step forward. Or backward, for that matter. They had passed the first farms and houses of Kronstadt about twenty minutes ago and Herbert had led him through the narrow winding roads until they had reached this quite big property.

A stable-boy came to tend to their horses, eyeing them worriedly. Alfred could only hope that the boy could cure them. Some minutes more and his mare would probably have collapsed.

"Is your lord at home?" Herbert asked the stable-boy, who nodded silently. "Come," he said to Alfred, as he did so often. Alfred followed him, as he did so often, out of the stables, across a huge patio into an impressive townhouse. A servant opened the door after Herbert knocked briskly. Alfred noticed the missing heartbeats of the man – he noticed it before with the stable-boy too. Obviously this was an estate of vampires.

"Master von Krolock," the servant greeted the count's heir and took a small bow. "I will announce you to my lord immediately. Please follow me, I'll show you to the parlor.

The servant went ahead and they followed him. Alfred was not surprised to be treated as if he weren't there. He was used to this treatment – it was no different as assistant to the Professor. The scholars Abronsius associated with often took him for a better hat stand.

The servant showed them into the very elegant and modernly furnished parlor and left them there. Herbert sat down in a comfortable chair and Alfred followed suit. He was quite happy that this chair was well cushioned. He wondered if Herbert had any idea how to get to Vienna from here. They had not talked during their ride.

Some minutes after their arrival, the door opened and a middle aged man entered. He had an impressive mustache while his head was bald. His clothes were modern and genteel, just like the furniture. He went directly to Herbert.

"Herbert von Krolock. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? Did His Excelleny* send you?"

"Greetings, Robert. No, father does not send me, to the contrary. I follow him – he got abducted."

There was concern in the dark eyes of the vampire named Robert now.

"That does not sound good. How can I help you?"

"We have to go to Vienna, as quickly as possible. And I need some paper and a feather. There must be bloody chaos in the castle right now. I had to leave at once when I learned about the abduction. They don't even know yet."

"Paper, feather, and a messenger bringing it to the castle – that's not a problem at all. About Vienna..." Robert played pensively with one side of his mustache. "I'll send an envoy right now. I know a vampire who really can do wonders regarding sudden journeys. Can you pay?"

Herbert looked contritely at the vampire. "I have a bit of money in my travelling cloak, but I don't know how much I will need in Vienna. As I said, we were not prepared for this journey."

"Never mind, I can disburse it. I know your father well enough to know I'll get it back."

"If we find and free him," Alfred thought, but didn't say anything since his opinion obviously was in little demand.

"Thank you, Robert," Herbert sighed, relieved.

Robert rose. "The servants will bring you the things you need and I'll send the envoy now," he said and left.

Shortly afterwards, a servant brought paper, ink, and a feather and Herbert sat down at a writing table in the corner. Determined, he unscrewed the inkpot, dipped the feather in it and let it soar over the paper. Then he paused.

Slowly all those thoughts he had suppressed during the forced ride, befell him now. Up to now, getting here was all that was important. Now, that he had to think about it, he became aware of the chaos he must have left behind. He laid the feather aside and took his head in his hands.

Alfred had noticed already last morning that the count's heir was at the end of his tether. He felt again that little twinge of guilt and struggled to get up from his comfortable seat. He went to Herbert, laid his hands on his shoulders and asked: "What do you want to write?"

Herbert let his hands sink on the table, leaned back, and rested his head at Alfred's belly. Alfred let him do as he pleased and started to massage Herbert's shoulders softly. Herbert closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the care and taking encouragement from it.

"You have no notion of the chaos in the castle right now. Father and I disappeared without a trace, just the night of the midnight ball. This one night of the year that they are all waiting for."

Alfred could imagine the fuss in the castle. But he was trained to ask only the fundamental questions when Abronsius was already ten steps ahead. So he asked: "Who are you writing to. That Koukól-guy?"

Herbert snorted scornfully. "He can't even read. No, I'll write to Kadir. An Ottoman servant to my father since 27 years ago. He took over most administration. He is also in command of the cemetery. He's not yet as apathetic as the others and these tasks will help him to keep his head above water for some more time."

Alfred heard how bland Herbert talked about this vampire. It was such a stark contrast to the feelings for his father and the cordiality towards this Robert here. A vampire seemed to be a pretty torn creature. But since he wanted to help Herbert right now, he suppressed this thought, pondered for a moment, then said: "I don't think you should write the truth. Just write that you had to undertake a very sudden, but unpostponable journey."

"I didn't want to write the truth. There are some vampires whose level of suffering is high enough to be able to cut the bonding to their sire – if they just get the right reason. I fear this event could have happened yesterday. They wait all the year for this drop of human blood – and they get nothing."

Alfred thought about this. After the couple of gulps yesterday he could not imagine having to wait a whole year to get another swig of it. And it obviously wouldn't be a swig, but merely a whiff of the taste, sharing it with so many others. If even that was denied to him...

"Write to Kadir, that your father gave permission for them to catch one human from every village of the countship, as a compensation for the cancelled midnight ball. So everyone will have plenty in comparison."

Herbert looked at Alfred, aghast. "That'd be completely against my father's laws. Only he and I are allowed to hunt humans."

"It's a one-time exception. When we'll have freed your father and brought him home to find a contented flock of vampires there, he will pardon this necessary step. If not – just tell him it was my idea." After all, Alfred was used to be blamed for other people's (i.e. Abronsius') faults.

Herbert looked again at the still empty paper, then sighed. "I'll tell them about a permission of three humans. Eight would be way too much. But three are two more than usual at the midnight balls. That should be enough to smooth their ruffled feelings."

Now that the decision was made, Herbert wrote down the words fluently, blew on the paper to dry the ink, folded it, and finally sealed the edges with a bit of molten wax from the candle, using the ring on his left ring finger as a sigil.

Herbert had just finished the letter when Robert entered the room once more. "Is the letter done? Well, I'll send the messenger right away with it. It can be a while until my other servant has returned, so I ordered them to put the guest chamber in order. You'll find everything needed for an upcoming journey there."

Herbert rose, went to Robert, and took his hand gratefully. "How can I ever thank you?"

Robert simply brushed him off. "I won't ever forget what your father did for me. Come, Herbert, I'll show you into the chamber myself."

Alfred just followed the two unasked, but wasn't rejected either. They took some stairs to the upper floor and crossed a long hallway, until Robert finally opened a door and showed them inside. When Herbert and Alfred were inside, he closed the door behind them.

The first Alfred detected was the smell. Human blood! He felt his fangs stretching right away. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Herbert.

"Stay calm. You'll get some. But you have to retain yourself. This servant is our friend's and he will want to keep him."

Alfred closed his eyes and tried to regain control of himself and his instincts. Finally, he felt strong enough to look around. There was a human sitting in a chair beside a table. On top of the table stood two wineglasses and there was a tube sticking in the arm of the human. Astonished, Alfred realized that this man was about to be "milked". And since he didn't look anxious at all, he did this voluntarily.

Herbert went to the man, took a wineglass and fumbled on the tube. Slowly, the glass filled with red blood. The smell got more intensive at once and Alfred did not dare coming even one step closer. Herbert filled both glasses to the brim, nodded dismissingly to the human, who rose and left at once and came back to Alfred, offering him one of the glasses.

Alfred really tried to drink the blood as slowly and measured as Herbert did and not just tip it into his mouth. Only now he realized, how hungry he was yet again. Fortunately his curiosity was stronger than his hunger just enough to help him retain decency.

"Does this happen often?" he asked Herbert and pointed with the thumb in the direction, the man had disappeared.

"Only in the city. There are enough people ready to do anything for money here. In rural areas – no."

"Too bad," Alfred said and Herbert nodded approvingly.

After they had emptied their glasses they turned to the bed. There laid two sets of clothes each and a travelling bag. The clothes probably wouldn't fit a hundred percent, but a belt would do the trick. Alfred was relieved that he apparently hadn't been just air to their host after all. He longed to get rid of his dirty, sweaty clothes.

By turns they used the small bathroom, providing running water, if only cold, and washed before they changed their clothes. Alfred put the other sets of clean robes into the bag, while Herbert threw the dirty ones carelessly into a basket for the servants to clean. Finally, they sat down on some chairs and waited for the return of Robert's servant, almost dozing off.

Eventually a knocking at the door ripped them out of their drowsy state and Robert entered.

"Ah, you're ready, that's good. My servant came back with the order that you should follow him at once. Obviously the journey will start this morning. All is arranged, don't worry. When you reach Vienna, seek aid with this vampire. He owes me a favor – give him this letter." Robert gave Herbert a sealed letter, declaring a name and an address. "He'll give you free lodgings, at least."

"My father will reward you for all of this Robert, I promise," Herbert said, putting the letter away in the pocket of his travelling cloak.

"The main point is that you'll come back together with him – that'd be reward enough for me. And now hurry!"

Robert brought them to the entrance, where the servant awaited them. After thanking Robert once more they said goodbye (even Alfred got his hand shaken for a change) and followed the servant through the night shrouded Kronstadt, heading to the next step of their journey.

**TBC**

_*A/N: I know that "Excellency" is actually the wrong addressing for a Count. In this case, I just follow the mistake made in the musical, in which the Count is always referred to as "His Excellency"._


	6. Train Ride

**Train Ride**

Anton led his jennet Manna through the crowd on the platform, carefully, to avoid any accidents with the bustling people. But people hastened to make way for him as quickly as possible anyway today, for Manna pulled a small cart holding a coffin.

A long train waited on the platform for its passengers, going to Vienna in half an hour's time. Everywhere people were saying goodbye to each other, talking cheerfully. Guttersnipes carried the heavy luggage of the travelers for a small coin. Dogs and even a birdcage were handed through open windows into the train.

Anton halted Manna for a short while. He wanted to take in the picture before his eyes. He loved it when his master assigned him a transport hither. There were always so many things to be seen. There! A woman in pants! Anton was not surprised at the disapproving looks the other people gave her. But the woman didn't seem to care at all.

Anton wished so much to board one of these trains himself one day. Just getting away from Kronstadt, seeing someplace new. Vienna! There must be such splendor there. The castles of their emperor, for instance.

Anton once asked a conductor about the cities, the train would pass on its way to Vienna. The way seemed endless to him, and he recited the cities in his mind, as if they were treasured words: Klausenburg _(A/N: today: Cluj-Napoca)_, Debrecen, Budapest, and Pressburg _(Bratislava)_. The train would need almost 24 hours for this way; it'd arrive at Vienna tomorrow morning.

Anton sighed. Oh, how he envied the travelers. But it was no good to dwell on this dream. He couldn't see himself affording the passage ever. He was lucky enough that the small wage the master gave him was sufficient for his daily bread. This brought his thoughts back to his task. A small click with his tongue and his donkey trotted on again. Anton led her to the baggage car that was right between a coal wagon and the first passenger wagon.

"Hello Georg," he called, when he recognized the young lad who was busy organizing the train's packages.

Georg turned around and smiled after he had given one of his fellows an order for the packing of some suitcases

"Anton. Your master also has a charge for us?" he asked, nearing the cart and peeking inside inquiringly. Astonished, he added, "Another coffin? Well – it occurs from time to time that a decesed – may God rest his soul - is sent to his family by train, but three at once? We already stored two coffins today," he explained, when Anton appeared puzzled. "Why is there a net around this one?"

Anton shrugged his shoulders. "Must have been a fisherman, from what I've overheard. He shall be brought to Vienna, to his family. My master only said that this net is very important for his relatives; a family heirloom, and that it must not be taken off in no case.

Georg scratched his head. "Some people are really weird. Well, I don't mind – the net will be helpful by entraining it for sure... But I fear you have to go to the baggage wagon at the far end of the train, this one's too full already. Speak to Moritz down there."

Anton nodded and waved Georg goodbye before he led Manna farther down the platform, which was emptying bit by bit as the departure neared. Moritz's baggage wagon still had enough room for the coffin and Anton helped entrain it before he and his jennet got on the way back to the workshop.

When he arrived, he heard the whistle of the train leaving the station in the distance. Anton sighed once more longingly as he turned around to face his daily grind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tired out, Professor Abronsius allowed himself to rest his head for a moment on the compartment wall while the train began to move, shooting steam into the sky above. The piercing whistle of the bugle ripped him out of the doze he had fallen into almost immediately. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and looked longingly at the bunk opposite.

He had been lucky to get a ticket for a sleeper in the shortness of the time left. He was alone right now; the other five passengers sharing the sleeper with him were sitting in the compartment next to this. Abronsius knew the seats there must be more comfortable than this folding chair, but here he could dwell on his thoughts in peace.

Even if his thoughts wanted nothing more than to sleep right now. Of course he hadn't closed his eyes this night for just one minute. Who could sleep when death was sitting beside their bed? Admittedly, Abronsius had known how irrational his anxiety had been – he could not have defended himself if the worst had come to the worst, awake or asleep. But in case it happened, he had preferred to see harm coming to him.

Since his eye lids threatened to fall again, he shook himself and pulled the worn notebook out of his pocket. He opened it where his pen was tucked in. Intrigued, he turned back the pages and stroked over the hastily scribbled words from last night.

The Count had been quite talkative. It was likely that only half of it was true, but he could worry about that later. Now, he simply wanted to believe these compelling answers to be true. This kind of thinking was strange to him, but he was just too tired for cool logic.

With restless eyes, he flew over the lines and relived some of the questions of last night in his memory.

"Can you turn into a bat?"

"No." The Count had sounded annoyed.

"A cockroach?"

The vampire had just stared at him incredulously. Apparently, he thought the mere question to be an insult. To tell the truth, Abronsius had not believed in this theory himself. It had been one of Alibori's ideas. But he wanted to be the first in verifying all of the theories there were.

"My esteemed Professor-," Abronsius heard the sarcasm in the Count's voice, "- if I could change in an animal as small as bats or cockroaches – don't you think THAT would have been the first thing for me to do? Both kinds of animals would be out of these chains and this confounded net at once. And before you ask the next question: No, I can not change into a bigger animal, either. You said you hold the chair of natural science? How could this turning even be physically possible?"

Abronsius had felt lectured as a little boy in this moment. But yes – the Count was right. There was no logical explanation for this capability. He was appalled that he was actually a bit disappointed that this magical skill should be a fable.

Determined, he had went on to another subject, which had been mentioned that night already, but to which the Count had given no answer.

"So, what about telepathy?"

The count smirked. He waited a bit, as if he had to ponder the question thoroughly. Finally, he spoke.

"Well, there is telepathy, but it's not limited to vampires. Everyone could do it if they could muster enough concentration, fixation, and imagination. Therefore it's easier for vampires than for humans. I could explain to you how it works and you could try do to it – though I have not heard of many humans that are able to do it – but I won't.

Abronsius had shut his mouth when he had realized that his jaw had dropped. That was most interesting. Of course he was compelled at once to try it. So he asked, "Why not? I would not dread the attempt."

"I can well believe it. But to do telepathy, there must be a connection from mind to mind. This connection, once established, is irreversible. And since it is like a door opened to a stranger, it's not only my being able to wander in the stranger's mind, but also the other way around. And everyone prefers to control who wanders in their mind and who can't. That's why this way of communication is not wide-spread. There is but one person I have this connection with. It's not the only person ever, but the only still existing. If I succeeded in training you how to do it, I would have to kill you afterwards to throw you out of my mind again."

"Wouldn't you kill me anyway, if you could?"

"Indubitably."

Abronsius couldn't help it, he had to chuckle at the time. This may be the only honest answer up to now. He pondered the things the Count had said. It really wasn't a pleasant imagination, having someone entering your mind and seeing all your thoughts, however privy. There must be great trust in the other person to allow him such. Was it possible that the Count had spoken honestly? Could vampires feel love, hate – and trust?

"What range does this work for?"

"A certain distance is covered. I'd estimate about a mile. You have to 'see' with your mind that far, in order to find the familiar other mind."

The Count had almost convinced Abronsius to tell him about Vienna. Almost. The Count could not allay his alertness completely.

He read also the other notes he had made last night. Answers to as many questions as the Professor could think of – crucifixes, garlic, blood, ways to destroy vampires. Somehow the Count maintained a low profile on that last subject. Well, he couldn't really hold this against him. The Count had only said something about beheading. Grinning mockingly he had said:

"Please, tell me one creature that has survived a beheading."

"Cockroaches." It came promptly.

The Count had shook his head. "A cockroach might live for some days after beheading, that is true. But eventually it will starve."

Well, he wasn't wrong.

Deeply immersed in his notes, Abronsius didn't realize time passing him by. All tiredness was gone. He didn't even notice the halt in Klausenburg. He only looked up when a servant looked into the compartment.

"Excuse me – are you Professor Abronsius?"

He looked up and nodded to the boy.

"It's time for dinner, Professor," he said pleadingly.

Confused, Abronsius pulled out his watch and looked at the face. It was really that late? Most interesting!

He followed the boy to the seating compartment, where there was scarcely any space to turn, for the extracted table was placed dead in the middle. He took the only free seat, looking at his fellow passengers for the first time, before turning to the soup that had just been served.

After dinner, tiredness came back at full tilt. He decided it was late enough to lay down in his bunk, even if his fellow travelers would do so much later. He took off and folded his jacket and cardigan in the sleeper and laid down carefully as to not bump his head. He barely had time for his head to hit the pillow before he was fast asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rattling sounds the train caused by running over the tracks melted with his dreams as Alfred woke slowly from his rest. He idly opened his eyes and found himself lying in a narrow coffin. There was hardly room to move a muscle. Alfred felt panic rising up inside him, but before it fully hit, memory came back to him.

All was fine. He was dead and dead people belonged in coffins. He went in there all by himself, in this dark basement of this shifty vampire they were led to the last morning. He also remembered the mechanism in the lid, which would enable him to open the coffin from inside. The vampire had explained exactly how to work it.

Now that he knew he could get out of the coffin anytime he wanted, he found himself not wanting to. Now he preferred to finally be on his own for a couple of minutes, or even a bit longer. He felt how his head was almost bursting with unthought thoughts. He had not really had time to properly think about his new situation since the Count had turned him and he had woken as a vampire in his castle. First, all he could think about had been hunger. Then there had been concern for the Count and the unease of their forced ride. Whenever he was off the horse's back, his thoughts had revolved around Herbert and how to help him.

But now, alone in this coffin, the soothing rattling of the train as a background, he finally had time to think about himself. There was nothing they could do this night anyway, locked in the baggage car of the train.

Alfred concentrated on his breathing for some minutes. It was odd that he still breathed. He knew he didn't have to, but apparently his body was so used to 21 years of the constant habit that he couldn't stop it unconsciously. Now, of course, he could hold his breath willingly, but as soon as he would stop doing it consciously, his lungs would probably begin their pointless work again.

He put this on the list containing all the funny things there were about being a vampire. There was another thing; he was almost used to by now. Constant hunger. Something told him he'd still be hungry after sucking the blood out of two grown men. This hunger never seemed to cease. He remembered Herbert's words to him the first night – they seemed to confirm this theory. He had asked him, if it was usual for any newly-risen vampire, that they were that hungry. And Herbert had only answered, that it was usual for vampires in general. While breathing was odd, if not annoying, the hunger was really bothersome.

He wondered if he'd ever been able to control it like Herbert did back at their host's. Could the Count's son restrain himself always that well, or was it just because he had fed on a man the night before?

Herbert... He was the only vampire to whom he had had real contact with yet. Was he the usual vampire, or exceptional? Alfred could not determine it. Herbert treated the human, crippled servant in the castle very contemptuously. The vampires living at the castle graveyard also seemed to leave him in the cold, figuratively and literally. At the very least there was no trace of pity. And he had killed the farmer from the village without batting an eyelash, after he had lied to and used him. Moreover, the many girls the Count killed yearly seemed to leave him callous.

That was one side of Herbert. The one Alfred was able to relate to best at the moment. He could not really put into words how he felt right now, especially in regard to other creatures. He was indifferent towards the death of the farmer and this scared him a bit. He also had no sympathy with Koukól, even if he couldn't share Herbert's exaggerated disgust. Whenever he had tried to visualize a meeting with the Professor or his family in the past night – he could not say how he would react to them. He didn't feel hatred but he had also lost the previous feelings of love for his parents and siblings; the respect for Professor Abronsius. He simply couldn't feel it anymore.

This realization was alarming. If he met his brother or sisters today – would he kill them without hesitation? Probably. It was a relief to realize that he felt a little bit shocked about this, at the very least. The observations of Herbert also bolstered his spirits.

For there was the other side of him. Herbert's love for his father was plain. He had been cordial to Robert. And he had been receptive and friendly to him, at least in their first night.

Perhaps it was something that came with time? It was comforting to know that the indifference he felt right now could possibly be reversed. He had no idea how old Herbert was, but he could ask him. He couldn't ask him about the indifference, though – what if Herbert laughed at him? He hated to be laughed at. He had had to endure it too often during childhood and youth.

Alfred smiled when he realized that he apparently wasn't indifferent towards one person. Himself. Quite the contrary. His own well-being was more important to him than ever. He added this to the pros. He remembered that feeling of triumph the night before last, when he was working that pump. Unwittingly, he tensed his muscles. Muscles that now could do so much more than simply carry his Professor's heavy bag.

Professor Abronsius – he hoped he was right with his assumptions about his plans. Hopefully, he was really headed for Vienna, eventually. The thought to kill him didn't trouble him at all, other than killing his family. Abronsius had forfeited his life when he had set hand to his sire.

He wasn't indifferent towards his sire either, Alfred had to confess. To tell the truth, he loved him more than his own life – while part of his sanity felt raped for it. But he suppressed this thought. He accepted his fate. That was way easier than to fight it.

If he could rescue and free his Lord, he'd be rewarded for sure. Perhaps the castle's cemetery would recede into the distance, even if this experiment with Herbert didn't work out.

As yet it was only the Count's heir who could save him from this miserable un-life. Not much had happened yet; there had been no time. Aside from the kissing on their first evening, and that he remembered to have been quite pleasant. Yes, he had comforted Herbert these past two nights. Expediency having been the biggest motivation, but not solely, as he had to admit to himself. It also had been his twinge of guilt and the realization, that Herbert really needed some comfort.

He liked the other vampire. So he wasn't indifferent towards him, either. But how far could this "liking" go? Alfred hadn't the slightest idea. But right now he felt he could cope with Herbert well. He was curious to find out if that would keep on when Herbert became more demanding. He had no imagination of what was coming up to him – well, maybe an imagination of the thing itself, but how would it feel? He was a bit anxious as well as curious. But most of all, he didn't care.

Alfred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really hoped that he could get rid of this indifference that laid there like a heavy cloth over him. The start was done, for he DID care that he didn't care. He had to work on it. For he guessed that indifference was the fastest way to the graveyard.

Finally, he opened his eyes again and worked the mechanism of the coffin-lid. When he opened it, his first sight was Herbert, sitting on his own coffin, looking at him intensely.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert looked at Alfred's closed coffin. He knew the other vampire to be awake, since he heard his breathing. Most vampires breathed normally, just like living humans; only very few unlearned it. It was not bothersome, so why the effort? But they only breathed when they were awake. Asleep they were the corpses they should be.

Herbert could open the lid and drag Alfred out himself so that he would keep him company. After all, Alfred had volunteered to do so.

But he gave him the time he needed. He should have half an hour to himself for reflecting. Herbert could still remember his early years as a vampire. The confusion one felt while comparing all the emotions with those that were once there when he or she was still human. It took some time to leave the human behind and even longer to forget him. But if he forgot on this way to build a new being, a new character, all was lost. The results could be reviewed at their graveyard anytime.

But it required strength of character and intensive work. And help of an anchoring figure. Herbert and his father were only how they were because they had had each other. Herbert called it "training humanity". Until emotions won over the indifference every vampire felt at the beginning.

He'd help Alfred with it, if he would let him. The start was promising, even if Herbert did wish it to be different. He thought back to the only kiss he had stolen from Alfred – a long and intense kiss. Memory alone sent shivers down his spine and heat into his lower parts. He would have loved to have taken the young man already. But circumstances did not allow it – would not allow it – until his father was safe.

But still he was determined, not to idle away this waiting time. He at least wanted to figure out, who Alfred was. All he knew was that Alfred was an intelligent student of natural science, could give good advice and could ride. And he had given him comfort these last nights, when he had needed it most. He seemed to be able to respond to him better than most in a long time.

Increasingly restless, he stared at the closed coffin lid as if he could gape it open with only his eyes. Finally it moved and Alfred appeared. He looked at Herbert questioningly, as if expecting a sermon any moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alfred watched Herbert expectantly – would he be rebuked? Herbert appeared slightly upset. He became even more confused when the other vampire's air changed within the blink of an eye and was now smiling warmly at him. Had he known Herbert better, he would have known him to simply be tensed up.

"Did you rest well?" Herbert asked and, without waiting for a reply, he went on: "I already had a look around here – only rubbish and gewgaw, no animals, unfortunately. We'll have to wait until Vienna before we can feed again."

"Have you been to Vienna at all?" Alfred asked the first question that came to mind.

"A few times with my father." Herbert's air darkened some. "We have been to almost every European capital at least once. Seeing something else entirely than the castle and woods surrounding it. There is a lot of boredom to eternity. A journey is always a welcome change. Mostly, at least," Herbert sighed. "You?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, the journey to Transylvania had been my first real trip. So far I had always been in the German Empire."

"Where are you from?"

Alfred smiled. He realized he was being interrogated now. All right. Herbert had the right to know who'd be sharing his bed in future. And he really didn't have secrets to hide. So he began to talk:

"From around Krefeld. My great-grandfather once helped the territorial prince back then out of a tight spot – don't ask, this is really all I know and I'm not so sure I'd want to know the whole story. Anyway, the prince had been so grateful that he gave my great-grandfather a piece of cultivated land including a manor and the title of a baron. Its former owner had fell from favor a year before. Well, my father and grandfather obviously knew how to behave, so we still hold that title. Allow me to introduce myself: Alfred von Tönisvorst. It's a stupid name, I know."

Herbert chuckled. "Well, there are worse. I always must laugh when I hear 'Schaumburg-Lippe'. Those images in my mind..." (A/N: Schaumburg-Lippe is an old aristocratic name in Germany. Literally translated it means: Foamcastle-lip)

Alfred joined in Herbert's chuckling. He never thought about the German free state like that. It confirmed his guess that it could be amusing to be around Herbert.

"Would you have inherited the manor?" came Herbert's next question once their laughter had calmed.

Alfred smirked. Why couldn't Herbert just ask directly if he had siblings? "No, I have an elder brother, besides one elder and two younger sisters. Wilhelm, Friederike, Erika, and Leonarda. In case you want to know. Actually, I was happy about it. My brother had to undergo military education while I was left to my own studies. My father would have preferred me to study law, but he didn't kept me from studying natural science, either. And you?" he queried back.

Herbert shook his head. "No siblings born alive or living longer than some weeks. Father would have loved to have more children. But the last stillborn child also claimed my mother's life. Father never took another wife; he had loved my mother deeply. I was thirteen back then," he added.

Alfred nodded sympathetically. Life had spared him from such calamities, except for death of his grandmother, whom he had loved dearly. "When did this happen? I mean – how old are you?"

"I'm 19. For 288 years."

Alfred laughed out loud, amazed and impressed at once. What an age! Almost 300 years – at least as a vampire. In total, it were more than 300 years. And still he looked so young and delicate - it was intriguing.

"How old are you?"

"21. Still." They both grinned.

"How did you get to Königsberg? Wouldn't Cologne have been the bigger university and much nearer to your family?"

"That actually was the trigger – I mean, the University of Cologne. My father was friendly with a professor there, who held a chair in natural science, but then moved on to Königsberg. When I had decided on natural sciences my father had written to this friend and asked admittance for me. So I came to Königsberg, far away from home. I didn't mind though – it was an adventure. Unfortunately, Father's friend died shortly after my arrival in an accident with a horse-cart and so I came into the lectures of Professor Abronsius – the one who took your father."

Herbert, who had listened interestedly, looked down again. Alfred felt new compassion for him – and was glad for this tiny bit of emotion. Whenever speech came to the count and his current situation, Herbert collapsed inwardly. Quickly, Alfred switched over to Herbert's coffin lid and sat down beside him, taking him into his arms. The Count's son cuddled closer at once.

"I really hope you know this Professor as well as you say," he whispered.

Alfred started to stroke Herbert's silky hair and murmured comforting words. Herbert decided that he had learned enough about Alfred for one night and just enjoyed the embrace. Slowly, he calmed down and his troubled mind relaxed. And just as he dozed away, he sensed it. This presence that was so familiar to him. Startled, he sat up, drawing his mind back into alertness.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, confused, as Herbert yanked out of his embrace rudely. He sat bolt upright and his wide open eyes stared at the wagon-wall.

"Be quiet!" he almost hissed and Alfred observed how the look in Herbert's eyes turned from surprised into a strange emptiness. What could this mean?

Herbert, cursing his jumpiness, sent his mind away again, controlled this time. The train was full of people, all unfamiliar minds to him. But there, far away from their own wagon, he found what he was looking for.

Alfred looked at Herbert, concerned. Tears ran down the noble's cheek, out of these scary, blank eyes. One of Herbert's hand clenched his painfully hard. What should he do?

While his body was shedding tears of joy, Herbert softly intruded this familiar mind. The mind was asleep, as centuries of experience told him. But he knew how to wake it. Softly he called: "Father!"

_TBC_


	7. Bonding

**Bonding**

When Breda awoke, he was back in the coffin from the night before last. It was extremely narrow inside and not nearly as comfortable as his roomy sarcophagus back home. There was no velvety lining, no cushions; he laid on bare wood. He wouldn't have been able to move even if his hands and feet hadn't been bound. At least Abronsius had decided to remove his condemned net.

Maybe a tribute to his superb cooperation the night before. Breda was still astonished as he thought back on how much fun the interrogation had been for him. Abronsius may have doubted the truth in his answers, but Breda had answered with all honesty. He had only kept his silence when it had come to the whole topic of destroying vampires. Most of the questions he had expected – they were based on legends and myths that were far spread at least in Transylvania.

One thing Breda would never be able to understand was the misbelief that vampires could change into animals. He could understand humans swearing to have seen vampires fly, becoming invisible, or transporting themselves into another spot. Vampires were superior to humans in many ways, therefore they could jump higher and move much faster. This could indeed look like a charm to some people.

Of course he hadn't told Abronsius all he knew. He had figured out the Professor quickly and knew now how to lure him; how to steer his interest to certain subjects. His un-life could depend on this – the longer he could keep Abronsius entertained; the more questions he still had, the longer he had to somehow escape. This thought brought him back into the present. Where was he?

Breda tried to concentrate on his surroundings. He found the first unfamiliar minds about 30 meters away. Directly around him sat a deep silence, aside from the typical sounds a running train made. He assumed his coffin was in the baggage car of a train to – wherever this train was heading to. But since it was still at full speed, despite the lateness of the hour, it was likely to drive all night. The old man surely was accommodated in a comfortable sleeper wagon.

Breda sighed. This would be another long night, while he could do nothing more than stare at the inside of this coffin lid. And there was nothing to distract him from the rising hunger he felt. He had been lucky that he had had the boy before he got captured. Otherwise it would have been much worse. But the injuries he had suffered – from the attack itself, the uncomfortable transport in the coffin, and, most of all, the silver cuffs – had consumed much of his energy for healing.

Well – he'd just try to sleep away most of the night. At least the train was running smoothly over the tracks, quite different from the coach two nights before. And so he closed his eyes and after some exercise, he fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Father?"

The voice ripped him out of his sleep and the wild dreams he had had. What was it again, Herbert? Could he never let him rest? It really didn't happen that often that he would lie down during the night for a bit. But whenever he did, he could be sure that Herbert would wake him sooner or later.

"Father!"

The voice sounded more urging now. Breda gave up to resist awakening. It was no good, after all. He knew Herbert would not cease to jar on his nerves until he would listen. He opened the eyes, a bit annoyed – and stared at the inside of a coffin lid.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert felt his father slipping out of sleep very slowly and decided to call him again, to quicken the process. He could not help smiling when he felt his father's mild annoyance – he was still half asleep; disoriented. But only seconds later Herbert felt his father's confusion and surprise and knew he remembered his situation.

"Herbert?" came his question back and Herbert could tell that his father did not trust himself. Did he really hear his son, or was it just wishful thinking?

Herbert was still smiling. "Yes, Father, it's me. How are you?" he asked and was trying at the same time to find it out by himself, searching around a bit in his father's mind

A wave of relief swapped over via the connection. "I'm fine. How did you find – Herbert, stop!"

Herbert ceased his foray after being chided by his father, but he had learned enough to be a bit more reassured. He knew his father would always tell him he was alright, even when missing an arm. But an aimed look had told him that the Count was really physically well, considering the circumstances.

"Excuse me, but I wanted to know how you really are. Is the Professor near you?"

"No, I'm alone here, probably in a baggage car, bound up and closed into a coffin. Where are you?"

"Alfred and I are also in a baggage car, but apparently at the other end of the train. And we're not closed into our coffins."

"Alfred?"

"The young man you brought me."

Breda pondered – yes, the assistant of the Professor. Now that he thought about it, Abronsius had never mentioned his name before.

"How did you know what train I'd be in? I mean – even I don't know where I'm headed to."

"The train is going to Vienna. Alfred had guessed that his Professor would go there eventually to find a fellow scientist there who is also studying vampires. But he assumed the Professor would get this idea later and that we could catch him when he arrives in Vienna."

"Give this Alfred my gratitude and... Herbert?"

Breda felt Herbert's mind slip away and he felt lonely at once. A bit annoyed at his son's jumpiness, he sent his mind after him at once.

On the other side of the train, Herbert had jumped up and ran to the air slot of their wagon.

Alfred, who had been sitting puzzled beside the seemingly catatonic vampire, took a deep breath, relieved. "What was that?" he asked, while he was watching Herbert as he piled up things on the wagon wall to be able to peer through the slot.

"Father's on the train," Herbert explained shortly and continued piling random items upward. Finally, he could step on it and forced his head out of the slot. Damn it! This train was really long.

Alfred stood up and went to him.

"What do you mean, he is on the train? How do you know?"

"He's there, at the other end," Herbert said with a bit of desperation in his voice.

"All right, listen – I don't know what's happening right now, but you cannot possibly be planning to get from here to the other end of the train," Alfred said after daring a peek outside and slowly guessing Herbert's intentions.

"No, it is possible," Herbert disagreed, even if doubt was in his voice.

"Herbert, that's suicidal. Look at the distance from one wagon to the other. And we'd have to go through at least twelve wagons full of humans – if you didn't plan on crawling over the roofs, that is. How do you plan to help your father if the risk of failure is that high?"

Herbert didn't want to be reasoned with and shook off the hand that was lying on his shoulder. He'd find a way.

"Herbert."

Herbert sighed when this voice reached him. He knew that sound. Gently understanding and at the same time relentlessly commanding.

"Stay where you are. It's pointless to try it. I don't want something happening to you. You'll have enough time to find me in Vienna. Abronsius doesn't seem to want to destroy me right after arrival. Listen to this boy – he seems to be more reasonable than you."

Herbert decided to ignore this last jab and answered, "We'll arrive in Vienna midmorning and we'll not wake up until evening. Who knows where you'll be by then." Herbert tried to change his father's mind half-heartedly. He knew the count had already decided and his decision was law to him.

"You'll know where I'll be in Vienna – your mind will find me. Do you have accommodations in Vienna?"

"Robert has given me an address I can turn to. Someone who owes him a favor. He also paid for the passage to Vienna – I haven't much money with me; our departure was very sudden."

Breda was silent for a moment and Herbert received a whole gust of emotions. Apparently, his father was quite moved by Robert's generosity. Finally he said: "Well, if necessary, find a vampire named Tadeusz – everyone knows him, you'll find him easily. He'll help you as soon as you tell him your name."

"All right, I'll keep that in mind. But it won't be necessary, as we'll have freed you by tomorrow night."

Herbert felt a smile on his father's face when he sent his last message: "I don't doubt that." Then he felt his father's mind slip away.

Herbert knew better than to follow him again. It was unwritten law that the talk was finished when his father drew back. He always had to have the final say.

Herbert descended from his small pile and went to sit back on his coffin. Alfred sat down opposite and looked at him curiously. When Herbert didn't seem to want to explain, he asked:

"Was this... I mean... Did you talk to each other, you and your father? Professor Abronsius had mentioned a couple of times that this could be possible, talking to each other via thoughts. Telepathy, he called it." When the blank look had come back into Herbert's eyes and he had seemed distant, this idea had occurred to him. How else would Herbert know about his father being on the train?

Herbert pondered for a moment. "Yes, it is telepathy – we talk in thought, you could say. But it's not only speech, there is more to it. You always get the full package – you can also feel what the other one is feeling. Lying is almost impossible."

Alfred snapped on attention at once. "How does it work? Can you teach me?"

Herbert shook his head. "No, not now, not within the next few weeks. It's something – really personal, to let someone into your head. It's only my father I allow in, just as I am the only person my father grants access to his. He trusts me and knows that I won't abuse it."

Alfred pondered this and finally nodded. He understood it to be something very intimate and mutual. The idea of being able to read into Herbert's thoughts and emotions was quite appealing. But the thought that Herbert could, in this case, read his mind as well filled him with unease. He liked to keep his emotions and thoughts private – especially now that he had to organize them anew.

"So, your father is here on the train. That means the Professor's too. Obviously he came sooner to the conclusion that he needs to see Alibori than I thought." Alfred paid tribute to his old mentor. He wouldn't have given him credit for seeing his way so clearly.

"Apparently, yes. But that's good – so we can find and free father tomorrow."

"So you gave up on trying tonight?"

"Father prohibited it. Too risky. He was all on your side. Oh, he also said I should give you his gratitude, since Vienna was your idea."

An honest smile showed on Alfred's face. His lord has praised him. He closed his eyes happily and just enjoyed this feeling of elation, sweeping away indifference and hunger. At least for a moment.

Herbert couldn't believe how much beauty that smile added to Alfred's face. Impulsively, he took Alfred's hands in his. The young vampire opened his eyes again and the intense green almost blinded him.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you're smiling?" Herbert's voice was just a whisper.

This compliment warmed his heart too, but not as much as the praise of Herbert's father, as he had to acknowledge. He shook his head. "I never gave a thought to it, to tell the truth. Not even when I was still alive."

Herbert got the hint. "You mean, when you still cared? When it would have made you happy, or sad?"

Alfred looked at Herbert curiously. Could he read his thoughts after all, or why would he refer to his emotions? Herbert's next sentence seemed to ease his fears, though it said:

"Don't worry, I can't read your mind. But I have been a newly risen vampire myself once. It's hard, in the beginning, not to lose yourself."

"But it gets better?" Alfred couldn't prevent himself from hoping. He didn't want to talk with Herbert about this, for fear of being laughed at. But now the noble had broached the topic himself – and didn't seem to be too amused about it.

"With a bit of training. Love, hate, fear, lust, happiness, sadness, rage – you have to learn it all anew. Remember how you felt as a human and forget it the same moment. For you aren't a human anymore. But you don't have to be an emotionless shadow either. I'll help you, if you want me to."

Alfred nodded. That sounded like a long way to go, but he was determined to walk it. "Thank you," he said and pressed Herbert's hand softly.

The count's son smiled. "I can see already that you have much more emotion, even now, than most new vampires do. You seem to have a strong personality. I'm sure you'll learn fast, considering."

Alfred smiled back. Again, Herbert's privates responded to this smile. Was their last – and only – kiss really only two nights ago? Well, now that he had offered Alfred his aid, and since sexual feelings also belonged to the wide range of his emotions, he decided to start lessons right now – selfless as he was.

And so he got up and sat down promptly on Alfred's lap, who looked at him, confused. Herbert didn't give the younger vampire any time to ponder as he caught those gorgeous lips in a kiss.

After Alfred got over his confusion, he responded to Herbert's kiss. Cautious, a bit insecure, but quite sensually. It didn't take long for their tongues to find each other and ask for a dance. But just before they got really drawn into it, Herbert withdrew. Feeling triumph, he heard the soft growling from Alfred's gorge, which was a plain evidence of discontent. These animal sounds of vampires were intuitive in ninety percent of all cases and always with newborn vampires.

But even though he knew the answer already, he asked Alfred: "What did you feel right now? Draw a comparison – how would you have felt as a human and how do you feel now? Be honest with yourself."

Alfred pondered. It had been like their first kiss back in Herbert's sarcophagus on their first evening. He felt curious and it wasn't unpleasant for him. Was that an emotion? Slowly he tried to follow Herbert's instructions.

"As a human, I should have felt nauseated right now, for I have learned it that way. But – I can't say that I would have really felt nauseated – but I know I would have felt bad if I hadn't. Now it's not nasty and I don't feel bad about it."

"Do you care?"

Alfred sighed. "No – yes. I mean – I think I do care. It's – pleasant. It's interesting. But... I just can't tell if I like it, you know?" He looked helplessly at Herbert.

"That is yet to come. It's a good start," Herbert said and smiled. "What do you want to do now?"

Alfred didn't need to think about this long. Instead of an answer, he followed an impulse and closed the distance of his and Herbert's lips. He wanted to keep on kissing; he was certain about that. These were some of the only moments he felt real emotion. When Herbert responded at once, Alfred had to smile. He just found the answer to his question earlier – yes, he liked it. Herbert seemed to be a good teacher.

Herbert decided that it was the end of "lessons" for the day and attended to Alfred's lips and tongue completely. His arms were slung around Alfred's neck, while the younger vampire stroked his back a little awkwardly.

The longer the kiss lasted, the braver Alfred became. Herbert felt Alfred's fangs stretching – an infallible sign for arousal. Since Herbert wasn't prey, and Alfred shouldn't be angry at him, either, only sexual arousal was left – Herbert was happy. To say in the least.

Only to hiss a moment later, when Alfred's fang cut his lip open. Automatically he felt the wound with his fingers and looked at the blood interestedly.

Alfred yanked his head back in an upset and stammered: "Ex... excuse me. I didn't... want... I guess I have no feeling for my new teeth yet."

"Suck it," Herbert ordered, instead of chiding him.

"W...What?"

"Go on, before it closes."

Alfred hesitated for another moment before closing his mouth around Herbert's bottom lip and sucking softly at the wound. He could only suck out a few drops of blood from the small rupture, but they were as promising as anything he knew that far. Compared to this, the farmer's blood was tasteless. Alfred closed his eyes, enjoying every moment, and tried to memorize this taste. Something like a moon-lit lighting in the midst of deepest winter built before his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Herbert looked back at him, knowingly.

"It tastes good, doesn't it? Vampire blood – better even than human blood. But very hard to get."

Alfred nodded. His instincts had already told him not to ask for more – that had been his first impulse. Herbert could have punished him for his mishap, instead he had allowed him to have what he assumed not many had gotten yet. He felt like he only could compensate with a similar offer.

"Do you want... I mean..." Alfred pointed at his own lips. Herbert seemed to have been waiting for this offer. He approached at once and bit his lip softly. It didn't really hurt. Cautiously, Herbert licked the blood drops away, while Alfred could feel the small wound closing already.

"Thank you," Herbert whispered into his ear, after he had abandoned his lips.

Alfred somehow knew that they had just made a pact that went much deeper than their bargain from the first night. Had it been expediency by Herbert to let him suck his blood? He felt much more linked to the Count's son as he could have ever imagined. But even if this was some kind of magic Alfred didn't know or even understand – he wasn't angry about it. For the first time since awaking as a vampire, he didn't feel lost anymore. Now he knew that he belonged to someone.

He belonged to Herbert.

**TBC**


	8. Klaus Herden's Bad Day

**Klaus Herden's bad day**

With squealing brakes, the train stopped finally in the terminal station of Vienna. A last jolt and the wheels stood still. The passengers only realized how loud the train's sounds had been when silence spread. But silence was superseded by the new bustle when everyone grasped for their bags and coats and rushed out and on to the platform.

Along with everyone else was Professor Konstantin Abronsius. He took up his heavy bag and left the train without regret. Those last hours had seemed to drag on forever, especially since they had to undertake a sudden break after their last halt in Pressburg. A large tree had fallen on the tracks and it took about two hours until oxen had been brought there to drag it off. At least a terrible accident was prevented, for the obstacle was spotted early enough. Two boys were sent along the tracks to wave nearing trains down. Otherwise it would have been too late when the engineer had seen the tree.

But of course their arrival in Vienna had been delayed and now Abronsius wasn't the only one to gratefully have a good stretch as soon as they were on terra firma again. All around him, people greeted each other when travelers and relatives found each other in the bustle of people.

Professor Abronsius also edged himself through the crowd, looking around alertly. Finally, he spotted a very young looking boy, clad in a livery showing the emblem of the University of Vienna, searching the platform. He only got the boy's attention when he was mere steps away. But still, the servant looked skeptically at him. Abronsius didn't really wonder. Alibori had sent him the absolute beginner; he wouldn't expect a warmer welcome from his rival. Finally, he stood right before the boy, watching him questioningly. Only then the boy stammered:

"Pro...Professor Ambrosius?"

The old man perked his bushy eyebrows up and his jaw dropped. WHAT did this boy just call him?

"Abrrrrrrronsius," he corrected him and the boy flinched as if his word had been a whiplash. The Professor didn't stop to listen to the stammered excuses, but chucked his bag into the lad's arms and turned around to look for his costly charge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Klaus fought against upcoming tears. It all was really enough to drive him to despair. This was his first day as a henchman at the university, but since morning, everything went awry.

He had been so lucky to get this job. He was fifteen and of course the wage would be low. But he could graduate and he could feed his family for now.

That was his task now, after they carried his father to his grave last week – whooping cough. His mother had never worked and had to care for his six younger siblings, so it was up to Klaus now to earn the money. He had to leave school and find work, so his family mustn't starve.

He had been a good pupil. He had always wished to be at the University one day – as a student, not a henchman. His father, a constable, had saved each possible Heller _(A/N: Austrian money, 1905)_ to fulfill him that wish. Klaus Herden senior had been proud of his eldest child. Now the saved money would help them this first time when he was earning so few. Of course, it would be impossible for him to study now.

So this morning he had started his work. His mother would be so disappointed if it was also his last day!

But his first task ever – given to him by a certain Professor Alibori – turned out to be a disaster. It had sounded easy enough. "Go collect Professor Abronsius from the main station. The train will arrive at twelve. Hurry, so we don't have to wait with lunch that long."

A doable task, one might think. But he should do it all alone. Suddenly, he was set on a coach box and someone gave him the reins. He had never driven a coach! But there was nothing he could do – the stable-master explained the most important commands to him and then he had to go if he were to arrive at the station in time.

He had had some almost-accidents on the way. He was grateful to the horses, who obviously were good-natured and brought him safely to the station, after all. But he didn't even want to know if there had been complaints about him that would go to the university.

After he finally arrived at the train station, he cooled his heels. No one seemed to know when the train from Kronstadt would arrive. Twelve o'clock came and went. Klaus could imagine vividly the gentlemen sitting around their lunch, clattering the empty plates with their spoons impatiently while the soup was getting colder by the minute. It wasn't his fault, really! But who'd care?

The eagerly anticipated (and much cursed) train arrived more than two hours late on the platform. When streams of people came bustled out of the wagons, Klaus realized his next problem. He did not know Professor Abrusius. How in God's name would he find him in this crowd?

And when he finally found the scientist, he had insulted and annoyed him with his first words. But who was able to keep this absurd name in mind? He followed the old scientist, carrying his heavy bag (what was inside? Bricks?), trying not to lose him again. This day really couldn't get any worse.

That's what Klaus thought, at least.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abronsius saw his coffin at first glance. The net, which he had slung around it to prevent anyone from opening it, was prominent and had recall value. Impatiently, he turned to the inept boy.

"Go on, we need a cart to transport the coffin. What..." he added, noticing the wide opened eyes of the lad "- you surely aren't afraid of a corpse in a coffin? This all serves science and the research of human culture. Go on now!"

The boy turned and looked around for a baggage car. When he didn't spot any, he hired four guttersnipes as carriers. He could only hope the Professor would provide some coins. It proved that four were too weak to carry the coffin, so they had to hire two more. But, finally they could leave the station for the coach while Klaus found himself strongly reminded of the funeral procession for his father a week ago.

With their combined strength, they heaved the coffin on top of the coach, where Klaus was fastening it more or less skillfully. Abronsius gave a stinted coin to each of the carriers and sat down inside the coach, leaving his arms stretched wide. After staring intently at him, Klaus finally realized that the Professor would want his bag back and so he gave it to him before mounting the coach box.

Praying to all the saints to lead him accident-free back to the university, Klaus pulled on the reins and clicked his tongue.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They really got back accident-free.

But only because halfway Professor Abronsius had shoved the boy aside and took the reins himself. His first impulse would have been to shove the lad off the coach, but a pleading look out of green eyes met him and the scientist felt his rage subside.

It was the same green as Alfred's eyes had. How often had his student looked at him, always with that brisk and interested glance. This boy now looked a picture of misery. Abronsius watched him. This boy couldn't be more than sixteen!

"What's your name, boy?" he asked. He didn't know why he was suddenly that interested in the boy. Was it just the Alfred eyes?

"Klaus Herden jun... Klaus Herden, milord," he corrected himself. He wasn't junior anymore. His father was dead.

Professor Abronsius had of course noticed this stumbling over that word. His brain's gears started working and logic brought him to the conclusion, that he was witness to a drama.

"How old are you, Klaus?"

"Fifteen, milord."

"That's pretty young. How long have you been working for the university?"

"It's... It's my first day, milord."

"And what did you do before?"

Klaus found the interrogation a bit inconvenient. He didn't want anyone's pity – even if he earned it honestly today.

"I've been at school, milord."

"The correct addressing would be 'Professor', not 'milord'," Abronsius corrected him. He sounded more lecturing than chiding. He didn't need to ask anymore; he knew exactly what had happened in Klaus' young life. There was only one reason why a fifteen year old boy had to leave school and apply for a minor job, especially since he suddenly wasn't "junior" anymore. If there was still a trace of rage, it subsided now and was replaced by pity. He wasn't exactly sentimental, but he still had a heart.

Maybe someone observing him today would never get the idea, but Klaus was an exceptionally bright boy. So he understood that the scientist wanted to help him by teaching him the right addressing. At least there were a lot of professors at the university. Who knows how often he would have addressed them incorrectly until someone rebuked him.

"Thank you, Professor."

"Did you like it at school?"

Another glance at the boy showed Abronsius that a wisp of a smile flashed over this young, careworn face.

"Yes, Professor. I loved it. I wanted to make my Matura (A/N: highest Austrian graduation) and then study. I'd went into research, microbiology, just like Professor Doctor Robert Koch, you know? He was here last year, holding a lecture at the university. And since my certificate had been that good, I was allowed to go there. Oh, if someone deserved to win the Nobel Prize, it's him, don't you think?"

Konstantin Abronsius had to smile about this outburst of enthusiasm. Yes, this boy was more like Alfred than just the eyes. He knew the fellow professor, who held a chair at Berlin's Friedrich-Wilhelms-University, but he had never had personal correspondence with him – their research fields were too far apart from each other.

"You know, young Klaus, I think Professor Koch's chances are not bad." And with this Professor Abronsius wasn't at fault. Just a few months later the medic got awarded the Nobel Prize, indeed.

The university's gate came into view, and so their conversation came to an end. Abronsius decided to cast an eye at young Klaus Herden – someone who spoke with such enthusiasm about science and research and seemed to be willing to learn – well, he needed a replacement for Alfred, even if he had a hard time doing so.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Professor Abronsius had passed through the gate safely and the stables came into view, he gave Klaus the reins back before the agitated stable-master came running.

"Lord, boy, where have you been? Professor Alibori has asked for you several times yet. I just hope..."

The man stopped when Professor Abronsius showed him a dismissive hand. "Calm down. This young man has really no fault for the delay of the train. That was the fault of the tree, which had to fall exactly on the rails. Would you please care for my _most valuable_ charge on top and bring it to Professor Alibori's laboratory? Come on, boy, you can carry my bag again."

With this, he dismounted the box clumsily and left it to the lad to get the bag out of the coach and follow him. Professor Abronsius walked determinedly over the huge area – he had been here before quite a few times, he knew exactly where Alibori's rooms were.

Klaus, stumbling behind him, was happy that the Professor apparently knew his way – he'd only fail again with finding those rooms.

Finally, they entered one building and went up the stairs. Now the boy recognized his surroundings again. They heard muffled voices coming from the private rooms of Professor Alibori. Abronsius knocked against the door resolutely and opened it before a "Come in" was to be heard.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"My dear Professor Abronsius, I almost thought you wouldn't come," Gianni Alibori said and stood up to welcome his unlooked-for guest. The telegram telling about Abronsius' journey from Kronstadt to Vienna had reached him yesterday and he still wondered what brought him hither. And what did he do in Kronstadt? Why had he been in Transylvania? Of course, Alibori had an idea what all of this had to mean. And he was curious to learn it from his rival himself.

"Professor Alibori – a pleasure to see you, as always," Abronsius answered, straining the truth. "Please excuse my delay, but there was an incident right after Pressburg. A tree fell on to the tracks and it took some time until the rails were passable again," he explained.

"Oh, that explains a lot. Well, we waited for a full hour, but then we did lunch, pray forgive us. But I'll get you served a bowl of soup right away, if you like?"

"Thank you, that'd be nice," Abronsius replied, pushing his coat into Klaus' arms.

"Mister – Herden, was your name? Please go down to the kitchens and get a tureen for my colleague from Königsberg."

Klaus nodded, hung up Abronsius' coat and put the bag neatly under it, before he left the room to go and search the kitchens.

Alibori pointed on a chair at the table and Abronsius sat down.

"This is Doctor Keller, a young fellow who came only recently to the university, to do some research," he introduced the other man in the room and Abronsius nodded to the young scientist. "Doctor Keller is interested in our research field and is very open-minded about it. I asked him to join us tonight, as I guess you have something new to add?"

Abronsius nodded. He knew the offer of the soup had not been based on pure hospitality, but to get the boy out of the room.

"I do, I really do. I found proof. Even something better than just proof. But you have to wait a bit longer for it. We'd want to be in the right mood, wouldn't we? So let's wait for nightfall. What are you researching, Doctor Keller?"

Abronsius had a glorious feeling of glee when he saw Alibori's expression. He knew his rival was close to bursting of curiosity. To hold the carrot before his nose like this was a real pleasure for him. This would be an entertaining afternoon...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two coffin lids opened in a bedraggled warehouse and Herbert and Alfred got out of them. They glanced around for the moment to get orientated. Of course they noticed the human who was sitting on a chair, watching them. Herbert looked at him questioningly and the man said:

"I'm Markus." That was the agreed parole. Herbert pulled an envelope out of his cape and gave it to the man. Inside was his part of the reward for collecting the coffins from the station and taking them into a sunproof shelter. Afterwards Herbert pulled out the paper with the address Robert had given him. He just wanted to ask the man for the way when Alfred intervened. He laid a hand on the arm with the note and pushed it gently down.

"Excuse me please, how do we get to the university?" Alfred asked. He knew that they had to go there first to find the count. Herbert bit his lip – why didn't he think about this?

"Well, that depends. There are a lot of buildings all over the town. But if you want to go to the main areal, you have to go like this..." Markus explained the way and Herbert and Alfred walked off. It was a good way to go.

"Can't we go faster?" Alfred asked impatiently. This unrest was unusual for him, for he normally was patient. He didn't even know where that feeling of urge came from.

Herbert, on the other hand, tried to moderate his eagerness, helping himself with the calm the other vampire emanated. "No, we must walk slowly. I have to concentrate to find my father's mind." He then gripped Alfred's arm before his eyes became empty again. Alfred understood and led the light blond vampire through the nightly streets of Vienna. Fortunately, not many people were still on the roads.

Alfred found it to be astonishingly easy not to attack the first person they met. It had been the same before with Markus. That was quite different from his encounters with humans up to now.

Alfred was very intelligent. So he realized easily that there had been a lot of changes for him since Herbert drank a few drops of his blood last night – after he drank some of Herbert's.

Something had happened in this instant. Before, it had been hard for him to feel anything at all. Since then he was, at times, flooded with emotions, without being able to name them or even seeing a relation to himself or his situation. Moreover, he now felt a special allegiance to Herbert he didn't feel before. Before it had only been that strong with the Count himself. Oddly enough, he somehow seemed to be able to read Herbert's thoughts now too – yesterday there had been no need for the noble to point out that the time has come to retreat into their coffins. They decided it both within the same second. After having spent the night with sensual kissing.

Alfred felt a tingling sensation in his stomach when he remembered those kisses. They kissed right into ecstasy and if it had been up to Alfred, they would never have stopped. There had been only kisses, but they soon had also kissed face and neck from the other. Alfred would not have minded if Herbert had gone further. But the Count's son had scruples as long as his father was a captive. Alfred knew that. But how did he know it?

Herbert owed him an answer to all of this. But right now he was deeply immersed in searching the surroundings for a trace of his father's mind. Since Vienna was a very thickly populated city, that wasn't exactly easy.

Herbert had lain down in his coffin this morning with swollen lips and aching, since untouched privates, but perfectly happy. Only when the coffin lid was closed and his arousal had subsided, he was fully aware of what he'd done.

He had entered a bond of blood.

What had got into him? It had been an impulse when he had tasted his own blood in his mouth. Only once had he allowed someone else (aside from his father) to drink his blood – but never did he drink their blood as long as his blood was still in their body. For that was required for a bond of blood.

But now it had happened and Alfred would be bound to him as long as he existed. On a level even telepathy could never reach. He, Herbert, would be able to feel Alfred's emotions as his own. He would always know how Alfred felt and would be able to predict what he'd do or say next moment.

Herbert knew that he should be horrified, or at least remorseful. But he was neither. What he did still felt so right. His father would probably have a completely different view of things, though. And Herbert knew he couldn't keep it a secret for long – as soon as their minds connected the Count would detect his lapse effortlessly.

Only few vampires ever entered a bond of blood. Sometimes there were couples who celebrated it as a kind of vampiric marriage. But mostly they were close relatives or friends who swore eternal allegiance.

This bond did not bind Alfred to him in a sexual way. This would have been beyond Herbert. He didn't do this to get Alfred into his bed. It was bad enough that he did it without cautioning Alfred about the consequences.

It was now more like the other way round – and this was the only reason Herbert cursed himself for jumping into this bond: He would now be unable to force Alfred to do anything the other didn't really want. Even if Alfred did volunteer – he'd feel his disgust as if it were his own emotion. So he was damned to hope Alfred to reciprocate his feelings, or at least find pleasure in everything that was yet to come.

He needed to tell Alfred what he'd done, and soon. Herbert was sure Alfred already guessed a lot of it – he was really exceptionally bright.

But first they had to free the count. He must now forget anything distracting him from this task. And so he let himself be led by Alfred, while he was looking for his father. He knew he could trust Alfred blindly. He had arranged it himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After about half an hour's time, Herbert suddenly gasped and halted. Alfred still held his arm and looked at him tensely.

"I've found him," Herbert simply said. He kept on concentrating and tried to enter his father's mind, but he couldn't get in. His father blocked him! Herbert drew his mind back, without losing his father's.

"We have to hurry. Something's happening right now to him. He can't answer."

"Why?" Alfred asked, since he did not really understand the principles of telepathy yet. Herbert hadn't explained more than the basics.

"Probably his full attendance is needed in his presence. I mean – you saw me – you're a little distracted while doing 'telepathy', as you call it."

Alfred nodded. Of course he should have known it, seeing Herbert's empty eyes whenever he talked to his father this way.

"You wanted to go faster earlier? Well, now we really should," Herbert said, grasped Alfred's hand and started running, faster than any human eye could see.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Abronsius delayed his colleagues until darkness had fallen in front of the window and the sun was certainly set. Klaus had brought him a bowl of soup. Even though the boy had found his way back much faster this time, the soup had been only lukewarm when he finally arrived. But Abronsius did not complain and Klaus was very grateful for this. Now the boy stood silently in a corner, waiting for new orders – or permission to leave.

"So, I think I can reveal my discovery now," he murmured finally, when it was dark enough for the Count to be certainly awake. "Come on, boy," he ordered Klaus, while his colleagues stood up. "You can be a witness to a big revelation tonight. Professor Alibori, if you'd be so kind to lead us to your laboratory?"

Klaus would have liked it better to go home, but he did not dare object. He knew the ominous coffin to be in Professor Alibori's laboratory. What if the Professor from Königsberg wanted to open it? Klaus shuddered. But when asked, he took the Professor's bag again uncomplainingly and followed the scientists.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Breda opened his eyes this evening, he still stared at the inside of this coffin lid; he was still bound by ankles and wrists. Well, he guessed that was still better than to lie cut open on an autopsy table. He closed his eyes again to search the surroundings for a trace of his son's mind, but couldn't find him. He really hoped Herbert and this Alfred were on their way yet. He had a feeling that there wasn't much time.

He didn't know how much time had passed while he was searching when sounds ripped him back into the present. Those were steps nearing the place he was and he could tell they were from a couple of persons.

"I promise you, you will be flabbergasted," someone promised to others. It was Professor Abronsius's voice.

So he was about to be presented to other scientists as if he was a dancing bear. Rage flamed up inside of him. Not on his watch!

A door opened and the steps entered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Klaus first glance went to the coffin, which was placed on a table in the middle of the room. Again, he felt that horror he already felt in the station.

"Well, Klaus, put my bag here," Professor Abronsius ordered and it needed all of Klaus' courage to approach the coffin and place the bag beside it, where the Professor pointed to. Abronsius opened it and rummaged around. Finally, he extracted several items – a crucifix and some very pointy carved sticks. He gave a stick to each person. Klaus looked warily at his stick, while the two Austrian scientists regarded them rather curiously.

"Well, these stakes are a measure of security for you and this coffin might have already told you what I'm about to show to you now. Yes, it's true: I've found one. There can be no higher proof for their existence. This coffin holds a real vampire."

Ringing silence fell. Klaus' horror doubled. A vampire? Like Dracula? His mother's brother lived in London and he has always written letters with his eldest cousin Johannes. They were both the same kind of bookworms and it was not long ago that Johannes had enthused over a book he had read. Unfortunately, he could only retell the story to Klaus, since there was no German copy yet and Klaus' English skills were limited on some words. It had been a vampire story about Count Dracula. Klaus had been thrilled by Johannes' re-narration and he had tried to find at least some background literature about vampires. His book dealer had already a reservation for a possible German copy for him down. He had used his new knowledge to scare his little sisters. They loved it when he told them spine-chillers. But never, never would he have believed these creatures to really exist.

"Please..." he heard himself say and the three scientists looked at him, faces full of anticipation. "Please, may I go? My mother – she didn't expect me to be gone for so long. She's all alone now with my six siblings, the youngest still on her breast. She needs my help. It's time for dinner, the kids must be brought to bed... Please, let me go."

The scientists looked at him blankly for a while – this was a historical moment, and this boy wanted to leave?

"Balderdash!" Abronsius finally called. "Your mother will be able to wait for another half an hour for you. If you want to be my assistant, you need to show a bit more bravery." His compassion has been flooded away by scientific enthusiasm. Even Alfred had not been that fearful, and he had been bad at times.

"But... But I never wanted to be your assistant, Professor," Klaus objected confusedly and wondered if the old man was a bit deranged.

"Just hold on to your stake and marvel," he ordered him, as if he didn't hear his objection.

When Abronsius fiddled with the clasps of the coffin, Klaus closed his eyes and wished he had never left the house this morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda closed his eyes and stopped breathing. He hoped his face to be relaxed and not showing his anger. Hell, even he would let this boy go after pleading that heart-meltingly – and according to those men out there, he was the monster.

The lid was opened and a bit of light came through his closed eyelids. Apparently it was electrical light, for it did not flicker.

"This is it. May I introduce you: Count Breda von Krolock. Your Excellency, if I might present you to my dear colleagues... Your Excellency?"

It was hard for Breda not to smile. Abronsius should have a hard time with him; he'd be the perfect corpse, as long as possible.

"Well, I don't understand. He usually is awake by this time. Sunset, I observed it," Abronsius explained.

"Well, it's my impression, that this one will never be awake again," a derisive voice Breda didn't know said.

"Oh, I don't know, Professor Alibori," another voice said. "Professor Abronsius left Kronstadt yesterday morning, which is almost 36 hours ago – therefore this 'corpse' seems to be very fresh."

"That's right." Professor Abronsius sounded relieved to have found an ally. "And he looks like this for 288 years already. According to his information, he turned into a vampire in 1617. Oh, he told me even more – in the night before my train ride to Vienna he answered many questions regarding vampirism. Your theory about them being able to change into cockroaches is complete nonsense, my dear Alibori."

"And what about my theory about their reflections?"

"Well, we both know that it's MY theory about reflections and yes, it's true, they don't have one, never."

The other Professor – Alibori – started to rant, calling Abronsius some names, of which charlatan was surely the nicest. Abronsius didn't seem to mind, he talked to him instead.

"Your Excellency, I know you're awake. Consider it best for your health to cooperate now."

Yes. But for how long? In the end his health would be affected by destruction, he guessed.

He had to muster all concentration to stay a corpse when the Professor started to shake him by the shoulders, as if he was a ripe fruit tree. That was when Herbert finally found his mind. But he could not let him in right now, his attention was needed here. Herbert drew back after some vain trials. But he'd be here soon now.

Which was really necessary for Abronsius started to get tougher with him. He heard him rummaging in his bag and then a sound of a bottle being opened. Damn it. He knew what that meant. Hoping it wouldn't show, he clenched his teeth.

"Well, you seem to want it this way. Let's see how long you'll play dead man when I sprinkle you a bit with holy water," Abronsius confirmed his suspicion. The old man waited a bit longer to give him a chance to surrender.

Then Breda felt the sharp pain the drops caused to his face and hands. Inwardly screaming, he managed to stay calm on the outside. He only had to go on for a bit.

"You know, Professor Abronsius, I get more and more the impression, you're doing desecration of a corpse here. Maybe you're overtired and we should..."

"NO!" the white-haired man scolded. "Obviously the Count wants to play a prank. Well, as I know from personal experience, there is nothing worse for those creatures than silver. So isn't it perfect that I have a silver knife? We'll see if the Count is still that relaxed when this silver blade is driven through his belly."

Whoa! Abronsius really didn't need long to get radical. That wasn't nice at all. Breda guessed he wouldn't be able to bear this attack, but he was determined not to cave in. His inner eye could see the Professor letting the blade soar over his body menacingly. Teeth clenched, he awaited this incredible pain.

**TBC**


	9. Showdown

_Here comes the new chapter already. I hope you enjoy it. _**  
**

_Queenmedesa: Thank you for your review. I`m glad you liked the chapter. I took the Nobel Prize as an anchor in time, but I agree with you that the costumes in the musical are of a more earlier time - I just explain it with the Transylvanian rural region being a bit backward and the vampires just wearing those clothes of the times they were changed in. Plus, I wouldn't have been able to write the whole train-storyline ;-) _

**Showdown**

With his arm raised high in the air, Professor Abronsius stood before the opened coffin. The silver blade of his knife glistened in the newly installed bulb's light. He maintained this position for several seconds, giving the vampire time to change his mind.

The three other men in the room watched with mixed feelings. Klaus was completely horrified by this scenery. Doctor Keller seemed to be taken in and full of anticipation, while Professor Alibori held his arms crossed, skeptically. A part of him wanted his rival to fail, whereas another wanted his dream to finally come true – being face to face with a real vampire. But would Abronsius act this way if he really had nothing to show?

When no reaction came from the man in the coffin (even if Abronsius thought to have seen his face tighten), the Professor sighed.

"I gave you more than enough time to think this over. You force me to do this," he said silently and waited for another couple of seconds. Then, he stabbed out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Led by the mysterious connection between father and son, Herbert, along with Alfred, ran through the lonely buildings of the university. With every new obstacle – be it gates or doors – Alfred believed this to be the end. But Herbert always put him right. Effortlessly, he broke through every barrier with mere brawn.

They didn't have to break the last door, since it was already ajar. When they were only steps away, Alfred could hear the voice of his old mentor: "I gave you more than enough time to think this over. You force me to do this." Alfred was flooded by foreboding. He ran even faster and passed by Herbert, who had led the way up to then.

Alfred tore open the door and saw as if in slow motion how Professor Abronsius was about to stab a knife into his Lord. He felt sanity leave his head and instinct replace it. And instinct told him to protect his Lord at all costs. With a growl, he leaped forward.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It happened in the blink of an eye and Abronsius had no time to react. When the knife found its mark, the deep grumble turned into a piercing scream. Confused, Abronsius looked around, not able to comprehend what was happening.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert felt the pain as if the knife had stabbed himself. Agony brought him to his knees, before he instinctively found a way to block Alfred's emotions; block the inextricable connection and so at least reduce the pain.

When he could get back on his feet again, he caught his father rolling Alfred off him and pulling the old man that had been leaning over them towards him.

Alfred fell from the table and onto the floor, squirming and trying in vain to reach the knife that stuck exactly between his shoulder blades – he couldn't reach it with either hand.

All Herbert wanted to do was to rush to Alfred and free him from this ongoing pain. But there were other men in the room, getting over their surprise quickly now. They were approaching the coffin with stakes in their hands. Obviously, they had not noticed Herbert at all.

Herbert decided to lose no time. He approached the first man from behind and broke his neck with a single twisting movement. It was an irksome sound, when the neck broke, but Herbert knew that the man didn't feel it anymore. He was dead in the instant he fell on the floor.

The other man, younger, turned around, clearly horrified, when he heard the snapping sound and cried out when he saw Herbert. Reflexes brought his hand with the stake forward, but Herbert could dodge this deadly plunge. The momentum of his movement pulled the man forward and Herbert helped him falling by pushing his arms on his back. As soon as the man lay on the floor, Herbert sat on him, grabbing his head and twisting it around as well.

Herbert rose and looked around frantically. There was another boy in the corner. Ashen-faced, his stake pointing uselessly at the floor, sliding down the wall as his knees gave way. Herbert started towards this boy too, when he heard his father's voice echoing in his head. "Leave the boy. Help Alfred."

Herbert, who was very willing to follow this order, was suddenly rushing to the young vampire and pulling the knife out of his back. The screams that were still ringing through the room subsided at once.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda ripped his eyes open in the instant he felt a sudden weight on his body and heard a piercing scream. He needed a moment for the picture to sink in – the boy who he had stolen from Chagal's bathroom lay on him and Abronsius had clasped both hands over his mouth. Though he couldn't really see it, he could put two and two together. The old man had indeed stabbed out, only to hit his former assistant, who had come to his aid instead of the old man's. Oh, such irony!

Abronsius looked really shattered, leaning over the coffin to convince himself of the truth of events. Silently asking the young vampire for forgiveness, Breda rolled him off his body before noosing the chain binding his cuffs together around the Professor's neck. He needed no strength to suffocate the old man. Abronsius struggled bravely, but vainly.

"You know, Professor," Breda murmured to him in his agony, "somehow I regret it had to end this way. We could have had so many more enjoyable chats, you and I, given different circumstances. But turning you into a vampire would be most careless of me. You're ruthless, selfish, and have too strong of a character. You lack empathy, are thirsting for glory, and you are one of the most stubborn people I've ever met. My experience tells me that this combination will bring forth the most cruel of vampires. Moreover, you'd be a threat to my claim to power. That is why I shall renounce your company. Rest in peace."

When he finished this little speech (which he had interrupted for a short order to Herbert) Abronsius didn't struggle anymore. Breda concentrated for a moment – there was but one human heart beating in this room, scared and trembling. The other men were all dead. Sighing, he let his arms fall and the Professor's corpse slid onto the floor.

Breda sat up and looked around. Herbert cared for the young vampire, whom he had to owe not his un-life, but his retaining from a lot of pain. Alfred had calmed down a bit after the acrid silver had been pulled out of his body, but the agony must still be there.

He turned to the boy who had been Professor Abronsius's wish for a new assistant and whom he should have sent home in time. The boy, clearly underage, sat on the floor, chalk-white, frightened eyes darting around.

"Come here, boy," Breda commanded softly. The boy simply looked at him, horrified, and Breda could hear his already fast heart-beat speeding up. Breda looked at him, deep in thought. He didn't know much about him; he had only heard the short pleading with the Professor. But that was enough to know that the boy had a hard time at the moment – and that apparently seven lives were depending on him.

Humans were his sustenance. He killed without remorse. But he also knew to be moderate.

"Listen, boy. If you do as I tell you, no harm will come to you," he said before he repeated: "Come here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Slowly, Klaus pushed himself up on the wall. He still couldn't really believe what had just happened before his very eyes.

Dead. They were all dead.

When the light-blond beast had turned towards him, he had settled his affairs. His poor, poor mother. His poor siblings. Who would care for them now? But before the beast had reached him, he had suddenly hesitated before turning around.

The vampire in the coffin had killed Abronsius and sat up. Klaus had hoped the entire time that he really was just a corpse, had hoped for a prank. But it was all true. Dracula was true.

Finally he stood, leaning against the wall. He didn't know if his legs would carry him. They trembled strongly. But what could he do? There were only two possibilities: The vampire spoke true and would let him go, as long as he followed his orders. Or he'd die. As quickly as the two scientists from Vienna or as agonizing as the Professor from Königsberg. He had to take the opportunity to live, for his family's sake. So he pushed himself from the wall and approached the vampire, quivering.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The boy showed bravery when he finally found the strength to stand up before coming nearer.

"There must be one or two small keys in Professor Abronsius's pockets that can open these chains. Find them."

The keys would probably be silver too, so a human was more fit to this task. The boy hesitated before bending down and scouring the corpse for the keys. He finally found them in a pocket of Abronsius's jacket.

"Very well, now open my cuffs," ordered Breda.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rummaging through the pockets of the dead Professor had been quite a challenge for Klaus, but this order stretched him to his limit. Klaus simply couldn't hold his hands still and so he dropped the keys several times before finally succeeding in opening the chains.

When the vampire didn't grab him to drink his blood after regaining the use of his hands, Klaus relaxed a tiny bit and opened the chains at the ankles much quicker. Then he retreated to the wall and looked down. He hoped he'd be allowed to go now. He was so terrified.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda first had a good stretch – his muscles were all tightened up for resting in the same position for four nights and days now. Then he rose out of the coffin and kneeled on the floor beside Herbert and the injured Alfred.

"Can you walk?" asked he.

Herbert, who had laid Alfred's head into his lap, swept a lock behind Alfred's ear and said: "Come on Chéri, we'll try to stand up."

Breda looked at Herbert with a raised eyebrow. This new vampire was already "Chéri"? So it really had been a lucky chance to find him. As far as Breda could remember, only two vampires up to now had graduated to "Chéri" – after a distinctly longer time. But he banished these thoughts and helped when Herbert pulled the boy up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alfred's whole body was on fire. He had the feeling of burning up inside and was certain his body would fall apart any second now. It got better a bit after Herbert had pulled out the knife, but what was "a bit" on this level of pain?

It took a while until he could take in his surroundings again.

The pain got worse again when he was pulled upwards. Why couldn't they just let him lie where he was? Finally he was upright again, but he'd rather lean on someone than stand all by himself. He opened his eyes for the first time since the stabbing and saw that Herbert was his support.

He looked around. There lay the Professor, dead. And there were other dead men, too. Alfred realized one thing.

"Thirsty," he gasped. There were three grown men lying here. Blood en masse. He'd surely feel better afterwards.

"No, Chéri. We can't drink now. They're dead. Dead blood is poison for us, if the dead did not die by a vampire's bite. None of them did," Herbert explained.

Alfred's brain was still numb from pain, but he understood some things at least. He wouldn't get blood now. And Herbert had called him Chéri. That was new. But he felt too weak to ponder any longer about it.

"First I'll get you to a friend of mine, then I'll go and catch something to drink for you," a dark voice promised and Alfred saw the Count on his body's other side.

He merely nodded and tried bravely to set one foot in front of the other when they began to move.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Boy," Breda addressed the lad. "What's your name?"

"Klaus Herden, Your Excellency," he answered with trembling voice, remembering the title the Professor had used.

"Well, young Klaus Herden. We'll go to the stables now and you will arrange a coach for us, since some of Professor Alibori's guests want to be brought home. Understood?"

Breda knew Alfred would never make the way by foot. He'd rather walk to give his joints a bit of movement. But he'd go hunting later, so that was alright.

"Y-yes, Your Excellency," answered Klaus and followed the vampires out of that terrible laboratory.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Puzzled, the stable-master opened the door of his small private residence.

"You? You're still here? Damn, that's a long first day, isn't it? What is it now?"

"P- Professor Alibori asked me to bring some of his guests home safely," Klaus murmured and pointed behind him at the vampires.

The stable-master looked past him at the well-dressed gentlemen, one of them obviously not able to stand straight anymore. He grinned. These higher gents were all the same. Drinking one too many and then needing a coach to get home unseen. What would people say if they saw them drunken like this? One of the men confirmed his assumptions when he said:

"Oh no. We don't want to go home yet. Get us to the station, boy. They say there are good pubs there. That will bring us through the night until the train leaves."

Klaus Herden didn't realize that the count was helping him with this, until the next day when he was interrogated by the police to the murders in Alibori's laboratory. Of course the three strangers were never found – not at the station, nor in the towns and cities trains went to that morning.

The stable-master shook his head, but he readied the coach nevertheless. With a whispered "Have fun with these slobs" he finally gave the reins to Klaus.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert helped Alfred get into the coach and followed him in while Breda sat himself beside Klaus on the box. He didn't trust this boy completely, after all.

The boy shook the reins, apparently inept, and the well-natured horses jogged on. As soon as they passed the gates, Breda took the reins.

"You haven't been driving a coach that often, have you?"

"My first time today," Klaus confessed. Everyone seemed to know before he'd even opened his mouth.

Breda merely nodded, clicked his tongue, and steered the coach safely through the Vienna night. About twenty minutes later, he halted on an unremarkable intersection and turned to Klaus.

"Well. We'll leave you here. It would be best for you to forget this evening. You should also have a reward for your service. And now, get home."

He pressed two coins into the boy's hands and jumped from the box. Herbert had helped Alfred out of the coach already.

Klaus looked at the coins in the dim light of a street lantern. He could only guess what they were. The coins shimmered and were really heavy. Gold. It was real gold! Maybe all would turn out well now. Maybe he could keep going to school after all. His younger brother was already a carpenter's apprentice and would earn wage from next year on. Until then, the savings from their father and these two coins would suffice. And probably there would even be enough left for him to pay his studying fees – at least in the beginning.

Incredulously, he stared at the vampire, who was supporting the injured man once again. He had expected death, instead he got his life back.

"Thank you," he whispered, took the reins and let the horses trot on. He'd somehow bring the coach safely back, for maybe, after all, this was his lucky day.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where are we?" asked Herbert.

"We'll be at a good friend's in a bit."

"Tadeusz?"

"No, that's not a friend, just someone owing me a favor. And someone you find quickly in Vienna, when you're looking for him. This way."

They passed a gate and arrived at a pretty patio. A person sitting on a bench looked up and approached them soon after rising.

"Breda? Breda von Krolock? Is it really you?"

Herbert looked confused. A friend who was allowed to call his father by his name? He'd never expected this. Even Robert wasn't allowed to do so, and Herbert had thought him to be his father's best friend.

"Greetings Baptiste. Unpleasant circumstances brought me hither, but I'll tell you later. The consort of my son is severely injured. Have you got a room for him?"

The vampire named Baptiste looked curisously past Breda. "I'm delighted to meet your son at last. Of course I have rooms for all three of you. I'll insist on your staying for a bit. What's happened to him?"

"Silver knife," Breda merely said. "And two rooms will suffice."

Baptiste turned around and waved them to follow him. He entered the townhouse and called loudly: "Elisabeth, get dressing material and silverherbs into the smaller guest chamber." He then led his guests to the upper floor. For Alfred, walking alone had been hard enough, but now Herbert really had to carry him upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert took Alfred into his arms and carried him upstairs like a babe. He entered the, despite its name, rather roomy "small" guest chamber behind his father and Baptiste. Carefully, he lay Alfred down on the bed, where the young vampire turned on his belly at once, as to not burden his wound any further.

Only seconds later, a beautiful vampiress entered, bringing the dressings. Breda looked at Alfred, who lay exhausted on the bed and then he looked at his son. He laid a hand on Herbert's shoulders and said: "I have to go, get a bit exercise. I'll bring something to drink for you. You'll be alright?"

Herbert nodded, pulling the note with Robert's address out of his cape and giving it to his father. "Can you go there? Our tiny bit of luggage has been brought there."

Breda took the note nodding, hesitated for a moment, then pulled his son into a tight embrace. They had not had time yet to celebrate their reunion. Afterwards he left the room, dragging Baptiste with him.

Herbert sat on the bed beside Alfred at once and sorted the things Elisabeth had brought.

"Silverherbs?" Alfred whispered, and one could hear the pain in his voice. He had had some lectures in botany and had never heard of this herb.

"That's just the term among vampires, because it's the only thing that helps against wounds afflicted by silver. It lessens the pain at least a bit. It's a mixture of a couple of herbs – I know that wolf's bane, willow bark and rosemary are in it. Can you sit for a bit? We have to get your shirt off."

Alfred flinched when he struggled to get into a seated position. While Herbert helped him rid himself of the shirt, he explained:

"Silver is by far the most painful thing for us, even if it's not deathly. Even our healing powers, which are way better than those of humans, have a hard time with wounds afflicted by silver. The pain will be better, hourly, but you'll still have a couple of rough nights."

When the shirt was off, Alfred lay back on his belly and Herbert began to dispense the cream largely on and around the wound. Then he reached for the dressings and paused. The dressings would be only to save the clothes from smearing and as long as his father hadn't brought the new clothes, he didn't need to torture Alfred right now by asking him to sit up again.

Instead, he stroke a piece of Alfred's blond hair out of the beautiful face that was now relaxing. Alfred opened his eyes and the intense green looked at him questioningly. Finally, he asked:

"Why do I feel so much pity for myself? I usually don't wallow in self-pity."

Herbert chuckled. So the moment of truth was here already. But why delay it? Actually, this was quite the perfect moment. At least, Alfred wasn't in any condition to strangle him now.

"No, that's more my emotion – I pity you, because I could get a taste of your pain. I still can feel your pain, though cushioned."

Alfred didn't look that surprised. "Why? Is it because of what we did yesterday?"

Herbert drew back the hand that had been stroking through Alfred's hair and exhaled ruefully.

"Yes, it does. You know – two vampires drinking each other's blood enter a bond. The so-called bond of blood. Don't ask me what happens exactly, but we're mystic creatures and it seems to be some kind of magic."

"And this bond of blood makes me feel what you feel and the other way around?"

Herbert nodded. When Alfred stayed silent, Herbert thought him to be angry with him. He couldn't be sure, for he didn't dare open the barrier he had built over Alfred's feelings – he didn't really want to feel his full pain.

"I'm... I'm really sorry. For doing it and even more so that I didn't ask you beforehand. It just – came over me," he whispered apologetically.

"Does this happen often to you?"

"I've never done this before. And I don't think I will ever do it again. I mean – it's a long bond..."

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Well, that IS long."

"Are you angry with me?"

Alfred pondered. To tell the truth, he couldn't feel anger. He was rather happy to be able to feel so much since yesterday. Now he knew those have been Herbert's emotions, but he guessed they would help him to learn his own feelings better. There was just one thing he needed to know right now.

"Did you do it, because... I mean, you want more than just kisses, I know. Did you hope it'll make it easier for you?"

Herbert smiled, smitten. "You know the answer. I do want you, oh yes, you're so right. But I share your emotions now. What, if you don't like it? Believe me, I did not oblige myself with this bond."

"Is there any possibility that 'rash' is your middle name?" Alfred felt a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth.

Herbert laughed. "Oh yes, just ask Father. He'd tell you a lot of stories. On second thought: No, don't ask him. So, you're not angry?"

"Not at the moment. We'll have to see what happens when you get on my nerves," Alfred teased.

Alfred's face looked mischievous now, which caused an amorous sigh by Herbert. He leaned forward and kissed Alfred's neck tenderly.

"Was that your stomach tingling, or mine?" Alfred asked hoarsely.

"Who cares," Herbert whispered and decided to ease Alfred's pain with a lot of kisses now.

**TBC**


	10. Safety

_And here is the next one. I hope you enjoy the story so far._

_Queenmedesa: I really love your critics. They tell me that you give my story a real thought. Actually I'm not sure the count told his friend about his son being gay - I guess he just didn't find it worth mentioning. In "my" vampire-world the vampires are quite relaxed about this kind of stuff ("no morals"). I'll explain it a bit more in the chapter after this, when Herbert and Baptite first talk to each other. _

**Safety**

Alfred watched Herbert light a fire in the small fireplace. Actually, he had intended Herbert to simply give him the folded blanket lying on the end of the bed when he had said, "I'm a bit cold." Alfred didn't want to move if it could be prevented. Whenever he did happen to, he rued it afterwards.

But apparently the Count's heir didn't want to spoil the good look on his naked back and had turned towards the cold fireplace instead. Well, Alfred didn't mind, as long as he'd be warmer soon. He suspected this freezing to be a side effect of his injury, since he hadn't been very chilled at all in that cold shack on their journey to Kronstadt.

With silent admiration, he watched Herbert's smooth movements as he finished his work and rose. He had never been that athletic. He remembered the very first dancing lesson that he had had to endure. Either he had stood on the teacher's foot, or he had knotted his legs so horribly that he almost fell. It was pure luck that he went to Königsberg before he had to accompany his parents to society balls. So he was saved the awkwardness to ask a girl for a dance. That poor girl. Herbert on the other hand – he certainly was a splendid dancer, if he moved that graciously even commonly.

Herbert sat back on the bed again and stroke a lock out of Alfred's face in a now familiar gesture.

"What are you thinking about?"

Alfred chuckled, but stopped at once,when a sharp pain crossed his shoulders.

"I thought that you're likely to be a good dancer," he pressed through clenched teeth, causing Herbert to heave a sigh.

"I have no idea how you get this idea, but yes – I love dancing. Unfortunately we only have this one yearly ball – which was cancelled a couple of nights ago." Herbert sighed again, nostalgic this time. "Well, I guess we'll make up for this once we get back to the castle. And then I'll dance the whole night, just with you."

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea. Unless you like someone trotting on your toes all the time or dragging you down while falling."

"Nonsense. Everybody can dance – I'll teach you," he said dreamily. "When we're back home, I'll teach you dancing, hunting, and – do you know how to play an instrument?"

"Piano – if I'm compelled to."

"That's great! My father gave me a grand piano as a gift some years ago, it's brilliant; you'll see. We can play four-handed," Herbert enthused and didn't seem to notice Alfred's tortured face. "But my favorite instrument is the harp. I love to play it – but it also makes me kind of sad. Don't you think harp music makes one incredibly sad? Well, show me your fingers." He grabbed Alfred's hand from under the pillow and studied it. "Oh, wonderful. Slim and long, perfect for harp and piano."

"Herbert, don't keep your hopes high – you'll only be disappointed about how clumsy and cumbersome these fingers are. I just wasn't made to use my body in a graceful way. That's why it was perfect that I didn't have to undergo military education – I probably would have shot myself in a freak accident. I've never been a craftsman or an artist." Alfred noticed Herbert's deeply dashed look and smiled. "But I never said that I wouldn't love to listen to you. When will we start our journey back, by the way?"

Herbert shrugged his shoulders and stroked Alfred's back. The young vampire closed his eyes with relish. It felt good and distracted him from the pain. "I don't know. Father will decide, I suppose. But I don't think we'll stay all too long. You should be able to move enough in two night's time to be able to travel."

"I'm sorry I'm delaying you," Alfred said at once. He was afraid to be a burden to his Lord.

"Stop talking nonsense," Herbert said softly. "Without you, it would be Father lying here instead of you, probably in even more intense pain. The knife would have hit his belly, probably injuring some organs. In your case the knife had been stopped by bones, cutting the impact short. I don't mean to say that you don't suffer, not at all. But you should know that my father is very grateful to you and he'll show it."

Warmth spread in Alfred's body and it was not due to the now merrily flickering fire emanating heat. It was just like this time in the train, when Herbert had given Alfred his father's gratitude. To play over the embarrassment he felt, he decided to change the subject.

"Where are we, by the way? Who is our host?"

"That," said Herbert and lay down beside Alfred, cuddling to his body as close as he could without causing him any pain and kissing his neck, "is a very good question."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Silent as shadows, the two vampires moved through Vienna. Breda had insisted on Baptiste to accompany him so they could talk in peace and it would be easier to get food for Herbert and Alfred, too.

They didn't hurry when walking towards the part of the town, where they would be able to take prey most effortlessly. Breda informed Baptiste of all that happened within the past nights and his old friend listened carefully.

When Breda had finished his story, Baptiste merely asked: "Will they be able to track you to my property?"

"No. I don't think the boy will tell on me – he probably will tell the police he had brought us to the station, as I told the stable-master. And we left him two blocks away from you."

"Very well, then – but I didn't really expect less from you," Baptiste commended.

The Viennese vampire didn't need to lead the way, for Breda still knew it well enough. He had once spent nine months nonstop with Baptiste and had been visiting his eldest friend often since then.

It had been a couple of months after his changing. Breda had been the victim of a vampire named Nikolai, who once rose to lord when his sire had been destroyed by hunters. Nikolai had been the only one from his clan to survive this incident; he had been strong enough to get over the loss of his sire and finally to found his own clan. Unfortunately he chose Breda's castle as a perfect place to do so.

Breda and almost the entire court had been sired by Nikolai within a few nights. Only Herbert was saved, because at this time, the boy had been at his mother's parent's manor in order to spend the summer there. After his changing, Breda had been as emotionless as any newly risen vampire, a slave to his sire. But it showed early that he was different, for he soon found the strength to send a letter to his parents-in-law, in which he asked them to keep Herbert with them until he told them differently. His changing had not been able to destroy his undying love for his son.

For three months, Breda endured Nikolai's lordship, his suffering increasing from night to night, while his former court was happy with serving Nikolai. Breda felt that this existence wasn't meant for him, that he could not be a servant forever. Finally he had been strong enough to flee from Nikolai's influence, escaping from the castle. He started to wander around aimlessly, until his way had brought him to Vienna about four months later.

Here he had met Baptiste and the elder showed him what it could mean to be a vampire. Breda had learned to feel anew, gaining a part of his humanity back along with this. Breda had been helpless as a newborn human when he had arrived at Baptiste's, but when he had left him nine months later, he had become Count Breda von Krolock again, coming back home to HIS castle, to claim what was his.

Nikolai had been strong enough to survive his own sire's destruction, but he had been a weak leader, as Breda could see now. He couldn't match this new Breda. A fight for un-life or death had ensued, which Breda had won easily.

His whole former court had perished with Nikolai; there had been no one being able to stand the loss of their sire. Breda had been a Count in an empty castle. So his first official act as reinstated Count had been to call Herbert home – and turn him into his first subject. Breda had known exactly what he had done back then, he had known he made Herbert a slave to him. But he just wasn't able to face eternity without him. He made up to Herbert as well as he could by training him all the things he had learned from Baptiste. Herbert had henceforth been on a different level than all the other vampires he had created over the time. He wasn't equal to him, no. But their bonding was more like between father and son and a count and his heir and not that between sire and subject. But Breda also knew that – deep inside – Herbert would always be his slave with all of the consequences.

Herbert didn't know half of this story. The reason why he had never told him about it? Vanity. He just couldn't bring himself to admit that it took him more than a year to revolt against his sire. He liked Herbert to believe he had been strong enough almost immediately.

"Does your son even know who I am?" asked Baptiste, stirring him out of his thoughts. One look told Breda that his old friend and mentor knew the answer already. He always had had the feeling, that Baptiste didn't need any telepathy to read people's thoughts. So he only shrugged his shoulders, shooting Baptiste a sheepish gaze.

Baptiste chuckled. "Tomorrow I want to meet him, Breda. I think after 300 years he is mature enough to learn the truth about the oh, so strong and evil Count."

Breda punched the other vampire at the upper-arm, but not strong enough for it to be a real animosity for the Viennese. Breda sighed, yielding. He knew there was no way around it anymore. Baptiste had his own way of getting exactly his wish. And maybe the time had come to tell Herbert the truth, finally.

They halted when they heard voices nearby. Breda looked around and recognized the surroundings. They were there. This was the place where the outcasts, tramps, and prostitutes met at night; those people no one would miss. He and Baptiste exchanged a look before they nodded and started hunting.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Breda and Baptiste, both with filled stomachs, knocked out two men who had walked carelessly away from the group, the small guest chamber in Baptiste's townhouse was peaceful. The only sounds came from the wood, burning and crackling.

Herbert still lay cuddled to Alfred, tracing the muscles on his back with his fingers. Alfred concentrated on this – as much as it felt nice, it also faded his severe pain into the background.

Both started when there was a knock on the door. Herbert stood and opened it. Elisabeth stood there, holding the bag with their traveling clothes.

"Excuse me, but my father had sent for these to be delivered," she explained.

"Thank you very much," Herbert said and took the bundle.

"Do you miss anything else?"

Herbert smiled at her. One thing was for sure: They were in a really good house with great hosts. "A bowl with warm water would be nice," he said.

Elisabeth nodded and went away. Herbert closed the door again and went with the bundle to the table, unraveling it.

Alfred noticed the regretful look to which Herbert gave the fresh shirt, looking disappointedly back to Alfred's naked back. Alfred felt the need to chuckle, ruing it once again. "I don't have to wear a shirt. Actually I don't want to, if I can avoid sitting up. Except your father wouldn't find it suitable when he comes b..."

"Nah," Herbert simply interrupted him and laid the shirt back promptly. "When he stole you from that bathroom you weren't lacking only a shirt," he reminded Alfred. "My father doesn't care."

The count's heir sat back onto the bed and murmured: "But it's time he came back with the prey, don't you think? I'm thirsty, too, and you will see: It'll do you good." He laid his hand on Alfred's back again, stroking him and promising, "Tomorrow, I'll see that you get a bath – that's always relaxing. But it's too early for that now."

When there came another knock on the door, Herbert opened it and Elisabeth came in with a huge washing bowl. Herbert thanked her, took off his shirt and started washing with a soft sponge lying in the water. That felt good, even if wasn't more than a quick wash again. It was long past time for a real bath.

When he felt fairly clean again he eyed his old shirt and the new. Finally, he grabbed the old one and donned it again, sighing. It would be better to put on the new shirt tomorrow after a long bathing. This journey really stretched his limits. He couldn't pursue his usual body hygiene, and back at home he often changed his clothes several times in one night! [

"Is the water still warm?" came Alfred's question from the bed when Herbert was finished buttoning up his shirt. He had watched the older vampire the whole time and had seen his complacency. That was one thing they shared for sure: They both liked to bathe and feel clean.

Herbert looked at him, astounded. "I can ask them to fetch new water for you," he said, but Alfred shook his head. "I'm fine with this water. You weren't exactly dirty, you know. Just face, hands, neck...just a bit."

Herbert grinned, took the bowl, and put it on the floor beside the bed. Then he took the sponge and washed those parts he could reach without hurting Alfred any more. Alfred closed his eyes and just let him do it. Herbert thought he felt pleasure via their blocked connection and smiled contentedly.

"What did you want to become?" asked Herbert curiously after a moment of blissful silence.

Alfred opened one eye and looked at him questioningly. His murmured "Hm?" supported this gesture.

"Well, you said before that you'd have never become an artist or craftsman. But what had your plans been?

Alfred tried to shrug his shoulders, but pain stopped him doing so. "I didn't know. There was a time I wanted to be a teacher. But I'm impatient with anyone not understanding what's obvious to me, you know? I can explain one thing once, I even can explain it twice. But I'm getting annoyed at the third time and can't help but thinking how stupid the other person is. Not the best requirement for a teacher, is it? But apart from this – I just wanted to study, as much as I could. I took all kind of lectures, I didn't want to miss anything. Somehow I would have found my way. But I don't have to worry about that now, do I?"

Herbert laughed. "I see – I can best lure you with my father's library instead of my grand piano."

Alfred pricked up his ears now and Herbert didn't fail to notice. He sighed. "My father is also such a bookworm as you obviously are. He can read for hours – and those aren't even poems." Herbert shook his head. Then he looked at Alfred, thinking.

"Would you have stayed with this professor and become a vampire hunter?"

Alfred smiled. "Actually, I didn't even believe in this whole vampire thing. Well – obviously I was wrong. But it was still fascinating to work alongside Professor Abronsius. He knew everything. Whenever he would hear or read a fact, he'd know it forever. He never forgot something. And he could teach his knowledge very well, too. This whole vampire obsession – well, you could only have the Professor with this. It came as a set. And I was able to go to my first real big journey because of it."

"Do you regret him being dead?"

Alfred pondered. "My mind tells me that I should be. But I just can't. All I feel is regret that it wasn't me who killed him. He laid hand on your father," Alfred tried to explain and Herbert nodded. "Maybe – when I'm better with this whole feeling thing – maybe then I can feel regret."

"And for this moment you should keep one thing in mind," interrupted a dark voice from the floor and their heads turned around. Breda von Krolock had entered their room unnoticed, carrying an unconscious man under each arm. Breda had to bite back a grin. Those two looked just like two boys caught while telling stories beneath the blanket when they should already be asleep. "So, in case you ever regret good Professor Abronsius's death, keep in mind that he mourned for you. You have been close to him, closer than he ever wanted to admit to himself."

Alfred was silent for a moment, before he finally said, "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind."

Herbert walked to his father and took one of the men. They were both dirty, smelled horridly, and were really ugly. But Herbert knew by experience he wouldn't care once the taste of their blood was on his tongue. He took the man to Alfred on the bed and helped the younger vampire to sit up. Unfortunately he couldn't feed while lying down.

"Here you are, Chéri. It's a real privilege to have a whole man for your own."

Alfred, sitting on the edge of the bed, had closed his eyes, waiting for the worst pain to subside. Now he looked at his Lord questioningly. He understood for this not only to be a privilege because of the whole man all for himself, but the man had also been hunted by his Lord in person.

"You deserved this, Alfred. You not only saved me from many vexations with your deed tonight, but you were there in the first place because you knew your old mentor that well. If it weren't for you, I would not have been freed tonight – or ever. And I don't even want to think about all those things that would have happened then. Drink – the blood will help your healing."

He made a gesture for him to be free to begin. Alfred could not have waited any longer anyway and sank his fangs deep into the carotid of the unconscious man. Meanwhile, Herbert took the other man from his father, who said: "My chamber is two rooms down the hall. I'll see you tomorrow evening, my son." Then he turned around and left the room while Herbert followed Alfred's example.

Alfred soon learned the difference it made to drink fresh, "living" blood and drawing it out of an already dead person, like that farmer in Chagal's village. He felt how life seemed to switch bodies, leaving the man with every gulp and filling him up. He also noticed the exact moment when the man died. It was an uplifting experience. Never before had he taken the life of a living being willingly and just a week before he'd denied it vehemently to ever do so. Now nothing seemed to be easier; he did it without remorse, with pleasure, even. Nothing had ever made him feel so good as this moment.

When he was finished, he needed a moment or two to come back into reality. He felt almost replete for the first time since becoming a vampire. He guessed this was the nearest to full he would ever be. The pain spreading from his shoulders into his whole body, was eradicated for the moment.

He opened his eyes and saw, that Herbert was still busy with his meal, but almost finished. He felt an echo of his own feelings via their invisible connection. Finally Herbert pulled his teeth out of the man's throat and laid his head back in his neck with relish. His lips glistened red with blood and Alfred really wanted to kiss them now. Was it just the blood luring him, or the fact that Herbert looked somehow – seductive right now? Did he really feel that way? Well, one thing was for sure – he wouldn't mind some kisses now.

Herbert came back from his blood lust as well and let the dead man drop to the ground unceremoniously before pulling Alfred's victim off him. He dragged the two corpses to the door. "I'll bring them down right away, but first I'll..." He turned around and laughed when he saw Alfred. Actually he wanted to change the dressings once more and help him into the shirt, but Alfred had already lain back on his belly, making himself comfortable. Well – if he liked it that way. Herbert would certainly be the last person to try and change his mind.

"All right then, I'll just get rid of those bodies. They only perturb the atmosphere, don't they?"

"How will you make sure they won't rise?" Alfred asked and wondered what it would feel like to have his "own" sired vampire. Suddenly being the "father" of someone. It felt absurde. Suddenly he was quite glad for the rule that no one except their lord might sire a vampire.

"I suppose they have items here. Preferably a hatchet to behead them. But since this seems to be a noble house, they probably have someone responsible for this kind of thing. I'm going to try and find this person. I'll be back soon."

Herbert left the room, dragging the bodies behind him and silence fell in the small guest chamber. The fire had burned low by now, but Alfred wasn't freezing anymore. The stolen blood warmed him from the inside. A thought crossed his mind, that maybe it had not been that good to make this experience. How would he now be able to be satisfied with animal's blood or with Herbert's leftovers? Maybe their bond of blood would help with this. He had been able to feel Herbert's relish, he'd be able to feel it in future too. But he wasn't quite sure it would be the same as having it yourself.

Herbert came back, sooner than expected. "Done. They really do have someone to deal with it. I tell you that tomorrow I'm going to pester my father about this house we're in. I mean – this Baptiste may call my father by his name. I – I never met someone who was allowed to do so," he continued while laying fresh wood on the still glowing ashes in the fireplace. "Well, that should be enough till we're asleep," he said while standing up.

Before they went to sleep, Herbert dressed Alfred's wound again with silverherb. Alfred noticed the pain had lessened within the past hours; the fresh blood probably helping it along. And so he could find a comfortable position to sleep when Herbert spread a blanket over them both, cuddling close to the young vampire.

They lay chest to chest, looking each other in the eyes. Herbert would probably never loose his fascination for the green color of his partner's. He was happy about the development of this affair. Many things hinted that Alfred was responsive to his way of love. Herbert grew impatient more and more. He was attracted to this young man more with each night. It certainly won't be long now until he'd find out for sure. He lifted the barrier to Alfred's emotions a bit, but closed it as soon as agony flooded his body. He'd have to wait a little longer.

Alfred, having no barrier to the other vampire's emotions, felt Herbert's lust for him. It felt good to be the object of desire – of course he wasn't entirely modest. After all, he was only human – no, vampire. And more and more he got the feeling that he had been lucky to stir Herbert's interest. Lucky for more reasons than simply escaping from that graveyard. He liked the Prince and could not say that there had been one unpleasant minute spent with him. His gaze found Herbert's lips again. The blood was gone by now, licked off by Herbert most likely, but they haven't lost their seductive shine.

Following an impulse, he kissed Herbert. The count's son, surprised and happy that Alfred had made the first step, responded at once. The dancing of their mouths kept on until sunrise that sent all vampires to rest.

**TBC**


	11. Confessions

**Confessions**

When Alfred woke next evening from rest, pain was the first thing he felt. Groaning, he still had to admit that it was better than yesternight.

Herbert awoke soon after and looked at Alfred, concerned. He carefully lifted the barrier over their connection. The agony was still strong, but more bearable now. Still, he closed the connection again as well as he could. Where was the point in suffering alongside Alfred physically?

"How do you feel?" Herbert asked the younger vampire. Admittedly, he knew it already, but it was polite to ask anyway.

Alfred merely nodded to sign that he was better. A moment of silence passed, before Alfred, still a little sleepy, asked: "Don't Viennese vampires sleep in coffins?"

Herbert chuckled. "I suppose they do. But many guest rooms are made for both vampires and humans – we also have some guest chambers in the castle and there are no coffins in them. A vampire doesn't have to sleep in a coffin, though that's usual – it's just instinct to us. But I also spend a day in bed at home once in a while – mostly when I'm with a pretty man."

Alfred felt strange. Would Herbert talk about him like this in a couple of weeks? Just being a random "pretty man", allowed to warm his bed for a short while? This prospect bothered him. But maybe their bond of blood that Herbert had established so rashly would make the difference?

Herbert thought he felt chagrin via their cushioned connection. He lowered the barrier once more and could be sure now. Yes, Alfred was obviously sullen. Was it possible that his Chéri was jealous? Herbert felt butterflies in his stomach. Softly, he laid a finger under Alfred's chin and stole the first kiss of the night.

"But I've never seen a more beautiful man than you. I can't wait to welcome you in my bed," he whispered and the younger vampire closed his eyes. The discontent disappeared and Herbert felt instead pleasure, comfort, and even a bit arousal. Contended, he closed the barrier again.

Alfred noticed for the first time the difference between his and Herbert's feelings. Up to now it had been only a big mingled knot. But this stomach tingling just didn't fit his present thoughts and emotions. Still, his lips prickled when Herbert kissed them. The elder's words, following the kiss, swiped all of his negative thoughts away and left a warm trace in his body. Alfred found himself to be curious of the moment when he'd lie in Herbert's bed.

Another kiss was interrupted by a knock on the door. "May I come in?" a dark voice asked.

Herbert sat up in bed and signed to Alfred that he could stay down. "Yes, Father," he answered and the door opened.

"Good evening, you two. How do you feel, Alfred?" he asked,when he had pulled the door shut behind him.

"Better, Your Excellency," answered Alfred, who tried to sit up despite Herbert's sign, but the Prince hindered him while the Count said: "Don't! Please remain abed. Herbert – our host awaits you in the parlor in ten minute's time. See you in a bit." Then he left the room again.

Herbert stretched, rose, and took the fresh shirt from the table. He at least wanted to be as proper as possible for their host. While he changed, he murmured to Alfred: "I'm really exited to finally learn who our host is. I'll tell you everything later, all right?"

He combed his hair with his fingers provisionally before he bound the strands into a plait in his neck. Maybe his host could provide him with a brush? Hell, he would never leave the castle again unprepared for a sudden journey. He took a look at Alfred, who had closed his eyes and obviously was about to sleep again for a bit. Then Herbert left the room and looked around for the parlor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A servant helped Herbert eventually find the room. The vampire named Baptiste stood at the window, turning around when Herbert entered, wine glass in hand. Baptiste had apparently been older than his father when he had been changed, as the more grey than brown hair showed. Nevertheless, he was as attractive and agile as all vampires were.

"Ah, the young prince," he welcomed Herbert and pointed at a comfortable chair, while he seated himself in another. Herbert merely nodded and sat down. A wine glass, obviously meant for him, stood on the table and Herbert took it instantly, lured by the wondrous smell. After raising the glass to his host, he took a sip. It was very tasty – Herbert immensely enjoyed red wine mixed with human blood; a rarity in their castle in Transylvania.

"How is your consort?" asked Baptiste. There was not a trace of judgement in his voice, but that didn't surprise Herbert. His sexual preferences were no cause of uproar, at least in a vampire's point of view. Most vampires simply didn't care who lay together in bed. He had never met a vampire shocked about his love for men. That was reserved for the moral uprightness of humans.

"He feels a bit better," Herbert told, wanting to ask about the possibility of a bath when the door opened and his father entered.

"Ah, here comes our Don Juan. Next time your father is on a girl's hunt, pray remind him of the outcome of the last time," Baptiste laughed boomingly.

Herbert bit back a grin with difficulty. Don Juan? Girl's hunt? Tensely, he watched his father, expecting a tirade – which failed to appear. Breda just grimaced at Baptiste and sat down like a chastened school-boy. Herbert would not have believed this, had he not seen it with his own eyes.

"Herbert, this is my good friend Baptiste Gerbier, Baptiste, my son Herbert," Breda introduced the men to each other, took his wine glass, and tipped half of it into his throat.

"It's really a pleasure for me to finally meet you, Herbert. Your father has told me much about you."

Herbert didn't mind Baptiste calling him by his name. Unlike his father, he had never been insistent on titles and formalities. And if their host called even his father by his name... Since the Count obviously had forgiven Baptiste his impudence, Herbert decided to cheek back.

"Unfortunately I can't affirm the same for you. My father has never talked about you, even though we have been in Vienna together before. How did you meet?"

Could it be that his father was uncomfortable? Right now he tossed the rest of the wine down, very noncommittally.

"Well, when I met your father the first time, I just saved him in time to perform a major blunder. I must say even back then he had this tendency to get enthusiastic about the wrong women that were no good for him," told Baptiste merrily, causing Breda to moan "Baptiste" that sounded both irritated and aghast, but also a bit amused.

"The woman that had stirred your father's interest had been no one else than the sister of the then empress," Baptiste kept explaining, unmoved, and Herbert regarded his words with interest.

"Baptiste, if you really must tell it, than please tell at least the truth. This woman had been well past 40 and a nun – my son knows me well enough to know that she didn't 'stir my interest' in those intentions you imply. I was just hungry."

Herbert smiled. No, his father would never be interested in a nun. The girls he picked for the ball every year were all quite young – most of the time even younger than he. At first he had been bewildered by this, but it didn't bother him anymore. After all, his father never criticized his consorts. The least he could do was return the favor.

"Yes, but it could have become a severe problem, had you sank your teeth into that old bat. So I took Breda by the scruff of his neck and dragged him home – with which I mean this very house. In the following months he was only allowed to leave this house in my company."

"I had been lucky to choose the wrong victim. If I hadn't, Baptiste would have probably never befriended me. Wrong victim maybe, but right place and right time," Breda added.

"Months?" Herbert asked puzzled. He couldn't remember when his father had been that long away from the castle.

"Nine months, to be exact," his father admitted. Breda looked at the table, incapable of looking his son in the eyes when he made his confession. "It was right after my changing. I had been strong enough to escape Nikolai's influence, but was far away from being able to confront him. I was a newly risen vampire – I mean to say I was just like every newly risen vampire. Without Baptiste I'd probably still be Nikolai's minion today."

"Don't be so tough on yourself, Breda, my friend. You weren't like every newly risen vampire, when you arrived here. Do you think I would have bothered if you had been? I knew you were special. You had it in you the entire time, all I had to do was reveal it. I can't do magic," Baptiste appeased.

Silence filled the room. Finally composing himself, Breda flicked his gaze to Herbert. His son seemed to be deeply immersed in thoughts. Breda was just trying to find an excuse when Herbert spoke:

"I'm happy to finally find out who your teacher was. I never expected to meet him today."

Breda stumbled over Herbert's words. "Finally find out?" he asked with hoarse voice.

Herbert looked at him with a soft smile. "Father, I might not be a bookworm like you, but I'm no fool. That was a damn long summer I had to spend with my grandparents back then – almost two years long, if I remember it correctly. Moreover, someone had to teach you all those things you taught me before you could confront Nikolai."

Baptiste grinned, while Breda apparently had lost his composure, staring at Herbert incredulously. "But... you never..."

"I thought you felt better when you believed that I believe that you're that powerful as you always pretend to be. I mean to say: having always been that strong," Herbert corrected smilingly.

Baptiste guffawed again. "See, Breda? 300 years worth of worries for nothing. Your son obviously knows you better than you think."

Breda gulped and looked at Herbert, moved. Yes, it was true – Herbert knew him better than anybody. And how could he have hoped to fool his so sensitive boy? Herbert had subdued his native curiosity in this case, just to give him a good feeling – Herbert's ministrations almost ashamed him.

Baptiste leaned over the table, took the wine bottle, and filled Breda's glass again. Then he took his own glass, raising it to his guests: "To you both. I see now why you couldn't do without him, Breda."

They drank to their hearts' content and Herbert looked at his father questioningly. But again it was Baptiste who spoke.

"Your father saw me living here together with my daughter Elisabeth and noticed our close bonding. You certainly know that there are bondings even vampirism cannot destroy. In the last weeks of his first stay here, your father was torn between changing you to be with him forever, or leave you in your grandparent's care, and live a peaceful life. There were times when he was determined to let you live, for he knew Elisabeth and I had another kind of bonding to each other – I did not sire my daughter, but we had the same sire. We survived his perishing only because we had each other. Breda knew it would be different with you two. There would always be the sire-sired bonding between you, and the last thing he wanted to do was to enslave you."

All this information just swirled inside Herbert's head. It was almost too much for one night.

"But I couldn't," Breda confessed silently. "I couldn't do without you. There was just no sense in an eternity without you. You had been the source of my strength from the start; the strength I needed to become the vampire I am now. So I called you home after Nikolai's downfall and I changed you – fully knowing what I'd condemned you to."

Herbert grasped for his father's hand. He had never seen Breda von Krolock so weak as he appeared to be now. He had known his father's love since he could remember. There had never been just one day in the past 300 years had he not been certain of his father's love for him. But he had never declared it so openly as now – his father was usually too reserved to do so.

"I'm happy with my life, Father," he simply said and Breda looked at him gratefully. So much laid in these few words, especially forgiveness for the hard start; for the enslavement Herbert still had to feel today.

There was a knock on the door, causing both father and son to start – for one moment they had forgotten their surroundings. Now they remembered the presence of their host, who called, "Come in". Hastily, Herbert let go of his father's hand – Breda didn't seem to care to show emotions in Baptiste's presence, but who knew who'd enter right now?

It was Elisabeth. "Papa, Raimund is here and insists on talking to you. I showed him to your office."

Baptiste nodded and rose out of the chair. "Probably in need for some money – again," he explained to his guests with a tortured look. "I suppose that will need some time. Just feel right at home – is there anything I can provide you with?"

"Mabye," Herbert began timidly, and his host looked at him encouragingly. "Well – a bath would be wonderful."

"Between you and your father's guestroom is a bathroom at your disposal. We have warm running water," he praised with an aluring voice and Herbert sighed dreamily. Baptiste chuckled. "Your father already told me how much you love your bathtub. Well, I have to go. Greetings to your consort. It would be nice if he could keep us company tomorrow, when he feels up to it. And now, please, excuse me."

Baptiste left the parlor and Herbert sipped on his blood-wine with relish. He liked Baptiste. He seemed to have a good grip on his father, which earned his respect. Moreover, he had invited Alfred along and acknowledged him.

"How does Alfred really feel?" his father asked now, taking up Baptiste's thread.

"Better. The agony lessened. The amount of blood has helped him. Really, thank you so much."

Breda waved him off. "And how are things between you?"

The instantly dreamily look spreading over Herbert's face was warning enough. His son had fallen in love head over heels – again.

"Never has there been one so pretty," he fancied and Breda pricked his ears. That was an impressing superlative, considering the number of Herbert's former consorts over the past 300 years. Only few of them had shared Herbert's preference and only one of them had had real feelings for his son, as far as Breda could remember. And his son was so full of love to give – way more than one could expect of a creature of their race.

He really wouldn't begrudge him a success with Alfred. He didn't know the boy that well yet, but the little he knew was promising. He was intelligent, prudent, and he seemed strong of character, considering the short conversation he had overheard last night. He seemed to learn quickly, since he already could reflect his own emotions that well. He also was true to him, proving this with the act to save him yesternight. No, there was not better consort for his son to be found at the moment. He didn't really know why, but he had already grown fond of the boy. That had never happened before with any of his creatures.

He banished these thoughts to follow Herbert's words again, who had apparently told him about all of Alfred's advantages and now said:

"...and last morning, before we went to sleep, he had kissed me of his own accord."

Surprised by the abrupt ending of Herbert's tale, Breda stammered: "Well... that... that sounds really nice, doesn't it?" He should have listened to his son. But he had just noticed something else in Herbert's look. Something Breda related to a bad conscience.

"Has something else happened between you?" he asked and saw his suspicion confirmed true. There was no doubt that Herbert appeared rueful.

Damn! His father noticed it every time. Herbert shook his head not even a bit convincingly and tried to smile the problem away. While many women (and some men) would have sighed and swooned seeing this smile, Breda merely frowned and looked at him sternly.

"My beloved son, you have always been a pathetic liar. And you don't even have to say something."

Herbert sought help from the unfortunately unresponsive ceiling, as if aid would wait there. Unfortunately, there was only stucco and the blond vampire knew his father would know the truth anyway, sooner or later. Why not now? Perhaps he wouldn't rage as much here as a guest as he would at home?

"Well..." he said hesitantly and Breda made himself comfortable in his chair. He wanted to sit firmly. "You know, actually... It came very sudden, for all of us. And Alfred is not guilty, he didn't know anything about it."

"Herbert, your words make no sense."

Herbert yielded. "It happened in the train. Alfred and I – well, we kissed. Alfred's teeth stretched and he ripped my lip open."

Breda nodded. He could understand that much. It had been a good sign that Alfred's fangs stretched while kissing. A distinct sign of arousal. There was hope for Herbert yet. Since Alfred was a young vampire having barely control over his teeth, it was unlikely that he only had pretended.

"Well, that can happen with a newly risen vampire. He has no real control yet over his vampiric body functions – he didn't do it on purpose," Herbert tried to appease his father, while there was no reason to do so – yet. So he just nodded to signal that Alfred would not be punished for biting his son's lip unintentedly. Of course not. Why would Herbert suppose so?

"Well, I bled a bit. Not bad, really. And – and – and I offered him to lick the blood."

One comital brow disappeared under black hair. Whoa! Now this confession got more interesting. So Herbert let Alfred taste his blood. After only three nights. His infatuation must really be strong. He kept on looking at his son sternly and waited.

"And... well... Alfred... He didn't know what he did, of course not... but he offered me to... to... taste his blood also."

"And you couldn't resist."

It was a conclusion, not a question. And it sounded more resigned than angry. That encouraged Herbert. He shook his head remorsefully. "I... I just didn't think about the consequences. I haven't thought..."

"No, Herbert. Of course not. For you seldom think before you do something."

Uh-oh. The voice had changed from resigned to sarcastic. Not good.

"Have you ANY idea, what you've brought about?" The voice rose.

"I do, in the meantime," Herbert admitted sheepishly.

Breda clasped his hands before his face, rubbing his temples. Why couldn't he feel any rage? He should be extremely angry with Herbert now. But all he could feel was disbelief. And no matter what his son had done and how incredibly stupid it had been – it has happened and no tantrum of his could ever change it again. He could only hope for Herbert (and his own nerves) that this madness turned out to be something positive. If it had been any other person than Alfred... maybe he'd be shocked even more so. But Alfred was promising. It could turn out well. He liked him.

"Have you explained it to Alfred?" he asked, calmer than he felt.

"Yes, he knows. And he isn't mad at me, at least for the moment. He's just happy to be able to feel again. My emotions, yes, but it seems he learns faster now about his own."

Breda nodded. That made sense and against his will, he found himself curious about how this bond of blood would quicken Alfred's development.

"When... when it doesn't work, then..." Herbert began, but stopped when his father showed him a dismissive hand, shaking his head.

"Don't even think about it. You got the both of you into trouble, you will accept responsibility for it. For all eternity. Do you really think it would be that easy to get rid of Alfred, when you don't want to put up with him anymore? The chances of you perishing alongside him are far better than you surviving. This bonding goes deeper than you obviously can imagine in your juvenility."

Breda swiped his face with his hand. You didn't became a "father" any day. For that, Alfred would be something like a second son to him from now on. Nothing else caused the bond of blood. Alfred and Herbert were one. Had he already felt the consequences? Was his immediate taking to Alfred caused by this? He had never liked a new vampire that quickly. And if he was honest to himself, this liking went deeper than pure goodwill. He was really fond of the boy and had not known why, up to now. This could be the answer to it all.

Herbert was lucky that he owed him after his own confession before. His son had forgiven him, without batting an eye. Why punish him now, when it wouldn't change anything anyway?

"Get out of my sight. Make a bath for this poor boy. We'll see each other tomorrow," he only said and felt a smile rise when Herbert downright fled from the room, obviously more than happy to have escaped that leniently.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert opened the door to the smaller guest chamber, his thoughts still back in the parlor. Hell, that had been really enough for one night – too much information and tension. He really deserved a relaxing bath now.

But his thoughts were pushed away by tenderness when his gaze fell on the young man lying on his bed, looking at him now with shining green eyes.

"Hey, just wait what I have to tell you," Herbert said when he entered, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"It's a recurring pattern."

"Pardon me?"

"The carpet. At a first glance it looks like it is completely wild, but the longer you look at it, the more you see that it's a recurring pattern."

Herbert looked down at the carpet – a tangle of colors and shapes. It was a really ugly carpet. Then he looked back at Alfred and at last the penny dropped.

"Oh Alfred, forgive me. I should have arranged for them to bring you something to read or so. I completely lost track of time." Herbert looked at at the wall clock and started. "Past midnight? Oh, hell, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you. There is a bathroom next to here and I'm going to draw a bath for you. Nice warm water. You'll surely make some steps to the bathroom, won't you? Tomorrow you won't have to be bored. Our host Baptiste invited you to come along into the parlor – if you'll feel up to it. But I'm sure you will," Herbert chattered away.

Alfred chuckled. "You're crazy. All right, I forgive you, if you just stop burying me with words. And a bath would be really nice. The pain is better, I'm sure I'll manage a couple of steps."

Alfred looked so amused that Herbert couldn't leave the room without stealing a kiss from him. "I'll be back in a moment," he said before disappearing into the next room.

While he drew the water his thoughts went back to the parlor again. His father had been exceptionally collected, considering the magnitude of his lapse. And he seemed to accept Alfred as a part of him very willingly. In fact, his father had seemed to grasp the situation better than he had done up to now.

He'll see tomorrow how his father would behave towards Alfred. So far he seemed to be well-disposed concerning Alfred and didn't seem to blame him for anything. The blame was all his, Herbert's. And it was his luck that he had a father that loved him above all things.

A tear of affection ran down his face when the warmth flooded his body again, as it had done so often during that conversation with his father and Baptiste. He had had to compose himself down there, but now he could vent his feelings.

Everything would fall into place. Suddenly he felt like his existence began anew this night – and everything would be even better than before. For there was Alfred now.

And with this sense of pleasure in his belly he went to help Alfred get to his bath.

**TBC**


	12. Relaxation

_**Relaxation**_

Herbert smiled when he came back into their chamber, seeing Alfred looking at him expectantly. He went to one of the two chairs grouped around the small table and took a blanket lying there. Then he said: "Well, the tub is full with nicely warm water and I promise you: This time you won't be killed while bathing."

Alfred chuckled. He had already sat up on the edge of the bed. "That's good. I don't think I'm going to survive being killed one more time," he cheeked back.

Herbert joined in the laughing while draping the blanket around Alfred's naked shoulders. Alfred himself would not have minded walking to the next room only half-dressed. That was a definite difference to his former human self – he had been extremely shy. Now he simply didn't care. But it was a sign of politeness to dress properly as a guest in a foreign house.

Alfred took Herbert's hand and pulled himself upright, groaning. At once Herbert slung an arm around his back and grasped his hips, pulling Alfred towards him. Alfred gazed at Herbert for a moment with raised eyebrows, but the Prince only beamed at him.

"Herbert, there's nothing wrongs with my legs. I'm really going to manage a couple of steps," Alfred explained dryly. But he could have told it to the doorhandle for all the response he got. Herbert merely grasped his hips more firmly and started to walk him out of the room. Sighing, Alfred accepted his fate – there was just nothing to be done, stubborn as Herbert obviously was. And admittedly, he was slightly amused by the situation.

After a very short way they entered the bathroom and Alfred's anticipation grew when he felt the warmth steaming up the whole room. The foam swimming in huge mountains on the water smelled of flowers – well, he wouldn't have needed scented foam, but it didn't bother him either. Finally Herbert released him and Alfred started at once to fully undress himself. He didn't mind the presence of the count's son.

Entering the room, Herbert's first glance fell on a service cart that hadn't been there when he had left the bathroom. That was... He let go of Alfred immediately and rushed to the cart. Not only laid there a variety of fresh clothes that would fit both him and Alfred, but also a wide range of hygienic products, several soft sponges, and – a brush. Herbert took the item, regarding it tenderly as if it was his first-born son. Among all the things there was also a note reading: "I thought you would find use of this. -Baptiste."

Herbert felt gratitude and appreciation for his father's old friend. It had been a pleasure to meet him – and lucky for his father to come across this apparently special vampire. Herbert wondered for not the first time in that night how old their host might be. Since vampire's emotions matured over time, as long as they were trained, he guessed Baptiste to be a lot older than he and his father to have reached such a level of serenity and sovereignty.

A soft splashing mixed with a both painful and relishing groaning brought Herbert back to reality. He carefully put the brush down, took one of the sponges and turned around. He saw with regret how Alfred sank beneath the foam up to his breast. He missed his whole undressing and climbing into the tub while his intention had been to savor every second of it. But Alfred's relaxed and contented face, his head resting on the rim of the tub, compensated for this. After all, they had all the time in the world...

Herbert turned to the cart again and inspected the hygienic products. There was a variety of scented soaps and even a canister with hairwash-powder _**(A/N: liquid shampoo was first invented in 1927)**_. Herbert sighed enviously. There were so many advantages to living in a big city like Vienna. Maybe he could persuade Baptiste to give him some canisters to take along to Transylvania? If only he had money with him to go and buy some.

Herbert found a small bowl and a spoon after a quick search. He filled the bowl with water from the sink and added the appropriate amount of powder into it. It started dissolving at once, condensing the water. Herbert quickened this process by stirring it up with the spoon. In the end it was enough for Alfred and himself, for Herbert was determined to take a bath after his consort.

After finishing his work he took the bowl, soap, and sponge and went over to the tub, placing everything on a shelf by Alfred's head. Alfred opened one eye and looked questioningly at him when Herbert sat down on the rim.

Herbert smiled at him and said, "Just stay how you are, it's perfect for me to wash your hair. Keep your eyes closed, this powder bites."

Alfred closed his eye again and soon after felt the surprisingly cold liquid poured over his head. His mother had also had hairwash-powder once. After all, this new product had been on everyone's lips – or better said, on their heads. Alfred had hated it from the start, for it really stung terribly in the eyes. Moreover he thought it to be a product only for girls. But now, lying relaxed in the warm water, feeling Herbert's long fingers massaging it softly, yet firmly into his hair, he viewed it in a different light.

With a soft voice, Herbert told him everything that had been spoken in the parlor that night and Alfred regarded his words with interest. It was somehow hard to believe that the Count had been like himself once – having a sire, being emotionless. His admiration for his sire almost didn't allow him these thoughts. On the other hand it was a comforting knowledge – if both the Count and Herbert had not been different from himself in the beginning, there was still hope for him yet. Hope that one day he could be like how his elders were now.

"And then Baptiste left the room, but not without inviting you along for tomorrow. Isn't that nice? I suppose I never met a nicer or more good-tempered vampire than him. I suppose he is quite old. I must ask Father about it. Speaking of Father: he knows now about our bond of blood. I just can't keep secrets from him. He can see it in my face."

Alfred almost opened his eyes, but remembered the biting powder in time and so he asked with still shut eyes: "Is he angry with me?"

"No, you're not to blame. He ranted at me a bit, but I suppose he knows no one can change it anymore. I think the worst is past us. Well, do you think you can dive?"

Alfred sighed. Not out of fear from possible pain, but because he would have liked to enjoy this head-massage forever. Composing himself he skipped forward a bit, diving and biting his lip when his shoulders told him how much they liked this movement – that is to say, not at all. He helped Herbert to rinse his hair to get out of this uncomfortable position as soon as possible. When he couldn't bare the agony any more, he surfaced again, groaning.

"Everything alright?" asked Herbert, worrying his lip as Alfred nodded while his face told another story. Herbert checked to see if all of the powder was gone from the hair before he took sponge and soap contentedly. "Come on Chéri, lean forward, so I can scrub your back."

Alfred did as he was told and found this position, resting his head on his knees as he held tightly to his breast, very comfortable. The pain lessened. Soon he could enjoy Herbert's care again, who washed his back roughly, of course sparing his wound. Then he plunged the sponge into the water several times, wrining it out over Alfred's back. When Herbert finally grasped Alfred's shoulder, gently pushing him back, the younger followed his movement willingly.

Herbert continued washing Alfred, caring for his neck and breast, being gentler now. While Alfred had been well used to having his back scrubbed, he had been self-responsible for every other body part since early childhood. So all of this now felt a bit weird – forbidden, even. But somehow Alfred liked the thought to do something forbidden. And admittetly: it felt really good. Alfred was quite sure that this was beyond mere washing.

Herbert savored every moment of spoiling Alfred like this. And interpreting the face of the younger vampire, he seemed to like enjoy it as well. Alfred opened his eyes and looked at him. The shining green seemed to be darker than usual. A certain knowledge was in these eyes, and Herbert took it as an invitation. Alfred's eyes told him that he agreed to his actions so far and they allowed him to continue.

Herbert leaned forward and pressed his lips against Alfred's. Alfred responded and soon no one could have told who was kissing who. Alfred's tongue dared Herbert's to a duel while Herbert's hand wandered deeper.

Alfred moaned into their kiss when the sponge caressed his hips and thighs. He had not known feelings like this before. But he suspected there was even more to come, for Herbert seemed to spare one part with deliberation. And Alfred found himself wanting the sponge exactly there now.

Herbert felt triumph rise in him when Alfred's kisses became more demanding while his body squirmed under his experienced hand to get the sponge where he liked it. He only fulfilled this wish when he had the feeling he had tortured Alfred long enough. Alfred's reaction was a long, drawn out moan and Herbert felt him getting hard. Losing his composure, he let go of the sponge. He wanted to finally feel him for himself, spoiling Alfred with his bare hands. The younger vampire seemed to like it, moving slowly to meet Herbert's movements.

His success with Alfred caused Herbert's pants to become tight, too. Herbert decided to give himself the same treatment as Alfred and opened his pants.

Alfred wondered how he should be a creature from hell when right now he felt like he was in heaven. A small part of his brain that was still working realized that the sponge was gone. What he felt now was Herbert's bare hand, but it made everything, if at all possible, even better. Instinctively he responded to Herbert's movements, intensifying the feelings. Alfred had no idea how this would end, but he felt it could not be long.

Opening his eyes when Herbert stopped for a short while with his kissing, Alfred had a brief glimpse of what the prince was doing to himself. Alfred had been raised in the belief that there was nothing worse than what Herbert did right now. But now he could only see bliss in Herbert's face. How could it be something bad?

Not long and Alfred found his release and Herbert followed him soon after. They persevered for a moment, exchanging fierce kisses, before Herbert buttoned up his pants again, standing up. He grabbed Alfred under the arms and pulled him upright. Giving him a for now last kiss, Herbert turned towards the service cart to choose nice trousers for Alfred.

"Do you also want a bath or should I pull the plug?" Alfred asked with a hoarse voice.

Herbert laid the chosen trousers on top and turned around with a chuckle. „"A part of me would love to bathe in your semen, Chéri, but the bigger part wants clean and most of all warm water right now." Then he took a soft towel and walked back to Alfred.

Alfred laughed. Why wasn't he at least a bit shaken or indignant about Herbert's indecent answer? Ashamed of what had happened right now? He found it only amusing – and even a bit stimulating. "You really are crazy," he murmured, stepping out of the tub and into Herbert's welcoming towel, pulling the chain with the plug with his toes while doing so. With a gurgling sound, the water started to run away.

"Crazy for you," Herbert whispered into his ear, after wrapping Alfred firmly into the soft cloth. "Just wait until we're at home. My tub is big enough to hold both of us comfortably." This prospect send a shiver down Alfred's spine.

While Alfred toweled himself dry, Herbert got the trousers off the cart, bringing them to Alfred who donned them without problems. Somehow his agony had disappeared for the moment while echoes of lust still rang in his body. Herbert then draped the blanket around his shoulders once more.

Before they left for their bedroom, Herbert opened the tap again to fill the tub once more, adding the same combination of bath salts as he did for Alfred's. Then he accompanied Alfred back into their chamber.

A surprise waited for them there. Someone had lit the fireplace already and had placed some glasses and a bottle of blood-wine on the table along with a stack of books. Alfred steered himself there at once and looked over the covers. One was a report from a man traveling through the Far East. Thrilled, Alfred took this slim book – this would be just perfect to browse while waiting for Herbert finishing his bath.

"You're alright?" Herbert asked and Alfred merely nodded. Stealing a last kiss, the Prince rushed to his bath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Herbert came back more than half an hour later, he found Alfred lying on the bed, completely immersed in the book he had chosen.

"Already finished?" Alfred asked, not having noticed the time passing him by now that he had something to read. He looked up and snorted when he saw Herbert, wearing a towel artfully wrapped around his hair that simply looked absurd.

Herbert merely shot him a reproachful gaze. "That's what happens when one is expelled from the bathroom suddenly." When Alfred only stared at him, he explained: "My father informed me most amicably that he would like a bath too before sunrise. Well – but I guess he deserves it – he had to relinquish it as long as we both and he had had the more unpleasant journey. May he have his bath. Oh, I'll be so happy to be at home again with my very own bathroom."

Herbert had stepped to the table, pouring two glasses of blood-wine. Taking both glasses, he went to the bed and sat down beside Alfred.

"Here, try this. It's wine mixed with human blood. Enjoy while you can. It's a rarity in Transylvania.

They touched glasses and drank. Alfred really liked the taste, even if he preferred pure human blood fresh from a living body way better.

"What are you reading?"

"A traveling report from India. It's amazing what a different world it is."

"Where would you like to travel the most?"

Alfred laughed. "Oh, I don't suppose I'll ever be able to finish an enumeration. Everywhere! But certainly North America. Have you ever heard of Karl May?* He traveled the Wild West, meeting natives and living among them. He tells the story from an Apache chief called Winnetou. The world he describes – I'd really like to see this. But China would tempt me, too, or, nearer; Scotland and Ireland."

Herbert kissed Alfred's neck. "We can plan a journey together. There is enough time for us, really. At least Ireland and Scotland are manageable. Will you tell me about this Winnetou-story?"

"If I had the book I could read it to you. I'm not sure I'm that good at retelling."

"It doesn't have to be a hundred percent."

"Alright, I'll try. But we'll save it for our journey back – that will be boring enough."

"Oh, I'd know some things to distract ourselves," Herbert purred, placing small kisses on Alfred's neck.

"With your father beside us?" Alfred asked, trying to keep his voice steady while he felt arousal return into his body.

Herbert sighed theatrically. "Why do you have to be so damn reasonable?"

"Well, one of us has to be," Alfred teased the prince, placing the book carefully on the floor when he felt tiredness overtake him. He knew now that this meant sunrise to be near.

Herbert cared for Alfred's wound with silverherbs, before unwrapping the towel, brushing out his long hair with the stolen brush (a small revenge on his father for expelling him from the bathroom). Binding the still moist strands into a plait, he returned to the bed and lay down.

Alfred skipped to him and began to open Herbert's shirt. Herbet watched him, curious and amused.

"Alfred, I really wish we could, but there is no time for this anymore," he grinned.

Alfred smirked and said: "Yes, but I'm not wearing a shirt, so it's just fair that you'd also take it off."

Herbert let him do as he pleased and when his breast was bared (alabaster, smooth and flawless), Alfred laid his head on it, using it as a pillow, slinging one arm around Herbert's hips. He had simply followed an impulse and found it had been a really good one.

Herbert closed his eyes, relishing the feeling to have his Chéri so close, stroking Alfred's thick blond hair.

Both vampires started to purr softly, the sound accompanied them into sleep.

TBC

_***A/N: Karl May, a German author living from 1842 – 1912 was a blatant cheater. He wrote his books, claiming it all to be true, while he had not been in the US until late in life, 1908 (his first America-book was published in 1893). Same goes for his Orient-books. Still, I simply LOVE his books and chief Winnetou (or his impersonating in the movies by Pierre Brice) had been the dream of my childhood.**_


	13. One Night in Vienna

**One Night in Vienna**

Gradually rest released the two cuddling vampires from sleep. Both still kept their eyes closed, enjoying the presence of the other vampire.

Alfred's head was still bedded on Herbert's breast. The elder stroked softly through his hair, playing with some strands. The pain in Alfred's shoulders was now, after another couple of hours, quite bearable. His thoughts flew to the previous night.

He did not even try to pretend that he had not enjoyed Herbert's treatment. In his very first night as a vampire he had guessed that it would probably not be hard to fulfill Herbert's claims. Now he saw that he did like it very much – more than he could have ever imagined.

He was really fond of the prince and could not think of one trait of his character that would bother him in earnest the long run. He found it pleasant to spend time with Herbert. Those hours yesterday, when for the first time after being changed he had been apart from him, had been the dullest of his short undead existence. He had longed for Herbert's return after only three minutes.

Now, Alfred really looked forward to all that was still to come. And the fact that he could feel this anticipation made him even happier. There it was – his very own emotion that he could distinctly feel. He was sure that it was his own emotion, not Herbert's, though the elder looked very contented too.

Herbert was indeed contented. While at first it had only been Alfred's looks that had attracted him, he had learned in the meantime that the young vampire had many other advantages. He had a wonderful character that seemed to match perfectly with his own. And the fact that you could already see this character, while Alfred was still so young – Herbert's head swam only thinking about what a diamond he probably could cut out of this already shining stone.

And this diamond was his own. Herbert wanted and had to believe that Alfred would return his feelings. The kisses they had shared over the past few nights – they had to be more than pure performances of duty. They were too soulful. And he downright knew that Alfred had relished his caresses yesterday.

Herbert's present wish was to never be apart from Alfred again. They were such a perfect match. He had broken the habit to hope over the centuries. It simply hurt too much when his hopes were destroyed time and time again. But he could not help hoping now. Hoping, as he had never done before. He pulled Alfred closer to him, as if to prove to himself that he was still there.

Alfred's answer was a painful hiss that reminded Herbert on his injury. The count's son let go of Alfred at once. "Excuse me, Chéri, I forgot."

"Never... mind," Alfred pressed through clenched teeth while the agony subsided again.

Still, Herbert's lapse put an end to their cuddling, since the prince carefully freed himself from Alfred's embrace, sitting up. Alfred waited for some seconds more before he tried to do the same. It worked out really nicely, better than in the previous night. Herbert checked Alfred's pain-level by opening the connection to his emotions. He found them to have lessened so much that he decided to not block the connection again.

Tenderly, he watched Alfred, who was rubbing his eyes. He simply looked cute; sleepy and with ruffled hair. Not able to resist, he placed his hand in Alfred's neck and pulled him softly towards himself. Their lips met for an almost shy kiss, as if it was their first one. Again Herbert had the feeling from last night – that his whole unlife began anew, with Alfred by his side.

Slowly Herbert's lips found their way along Alfred's chin, his hand caressing the younger's cheek. Alfred started breathing heavily at once. Herbert placed small kisses along Alfred's carotid and wondered if he could dare to take a sip, when there was a knock on the door.

Herbert let go of Alfred and called: "Come in." The door opened and his father came in, as the prince already had expected.

"Good evening to you two. Would you get ready please? Baptiste expects us in his parlor in half an hour's time. Do you think you'll be able to come at his invitation, Alfred?"

"Y-yes Y-your E-excellency," Alfred stammered. For one thing he was still a bit out of breath because of Herbert's kisses. And then the count's son was still very near to him in a distinct position. For the first time since his death Alfred felt a wisp of his old human shyness. It was impudent to appear like this before his Lord, half naked and with a man by his side – who was none other than his Lord's son.

"Very well, then we'll see each other soon again," Breda nodded, impassive to the scenery (he did not expect anything else) and left the room.

"Alright, I'm going to the bathroom first to get ready. Don't worry, I'll be quick," Herbert announced while stretching.

Alfred snorted, amused and doubting. He supposed the main reason for them to be apart from each other in future would be for Herbert being in some bathroom. Herbert just stuck his tongue out at him, grabbed his brush and towel and darted out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert had been true to his word and Alfred had had time for a quick wash, before it was time to leave for the parlor. However Alfred had needed help donning a shirt – his shoulders were not able to do this movement yet. But Herbert helped him at once so they could leave in time. Breda already waited in the parlor, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs.

Alfred looked around with interest. It wasn't hard to notice that their host was very wealthy. The furniture was modern and very luxurious. Of course the house provided electrical light. There was a very impressing chandelier at the ceiling and the floor was covered with valuable-looking oriental carpets. A couple of animal skulls hang on the wall. If there had not been the corresponding skin beneath the skull, Alfred would have had a hard time guessing what kind of animals they had been. Apart from domestic animals, such as deer, there were also very exotic specimens. Alfred was quite sure that some of those skins belonged to big cats and one seemed to be the skin of a giraffe, even.

"Baptiste sends his apologies, but he will be late. Another emergency, it seems. He is a man in great demand," Breda explained Baptiste's absence.

Herbert nodded – that had been his impression yesterday. He used the time to ask his father a question that was bothering him since yesterday. "How old is Baptiste, by the way?"

Breda chuckled. He wasn't surprised by Herbert's interest – the Viennese was a special specimen of a vampire. Herbert had never met one like him before and probably would not meet another ever.

"Actually, I don't know, I've never asked him. It – didn't seem to be appropriate."

Herbert raised his eyebrows. He had already noticed his father's respect for the Viennese, but that proved how strong that respect was. Herbert could understand his father, after meeting Baptiste the day before. Baptiste had the talent to give his counterpart the feeling to be a friend, to feel equal – while you still looked up to him.

"I've always wondered myself, you know, I still do. There are rumors about his age, but no one seems to know it for sure. Which is not really surprising, since they're probably all not even half as old. The rumors tell about 1000 years."

Alfred and Herbert gasped – this age was almost unimaginable. The three of them turned around when they heard a merry laughing. Baptiste had entered the room unnoticed.

"And I always wonder why no one seems to bother to actually ask me. Everyone only wants to speculate around. It's really no secret, but people insist on making one out of it. You'll learn now something very exclusive: When I was a living human I had been a member of Charlemagne's court. I was there at his crowning for Emperor, founding the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. I was 17 back then. 25 years later I became a vampire."

Baptiste's guests marveled with open mouths. All of them had enough knowledge about history to know that Charlemagne's crowing had taken place in the year 800. But Alfred was the one to calculate the fastest.

"1122 years," he whispered, awe-struck.

"You know, my very young friend – you stop counting at one point," Baptiste said cheerfully, walking to the chairs to sit down. "How are you? Has the silver almost left your body?"

"Much better. Thank you very much for your efforts and hospitality."

"How do you manage it?" Herbert asked, looking around and Baptiste turned towards him. "I know so many vampires, some older, some younger than me, but most simply won't manage to keep up with the times. They're forever stuck in the time which they were changed in. Decades pass them by, but they're not able to work a tap. But you, so much older than anyone; you lead a very modern life."

"I've always moved with the time – and I have to admit that life got more comfortable over the centuries. I'm really looking forward to the next decades. These automobiles you can already see in this town, tainting the air, are very promising, nevertheless. And it is my guess that it won't be long until the first attempt to fly with machines will finally succeed. I suppose that it is my curiosity for everything new that still makes me happy with my existence after such a long time. A vampire caught in the past will become depressed sooner or later and then they will set an end to their existence."

"Are there others like you? Other vampires that old?" asked Alfred.

Baptiste shook his head. "I don't know of any. All of my early companions are gone. They either ended their existence out of free will, or they lost fights for power, because they could not or would not muster their former drive. My daughter Elisabeth is the only one that is almost my age – the same vampire-age, at least. The next older vampire I know of is something between 800 and 900 years old. For this, you'll still have a long way to go, eh..."

"Oh, excuse me, where are my manners? Alfred von Tönisvorst, at your service."

"Ah, a young noble. He seems to fit perfectly into your little family, Breda. What have you done before my old friend had ripped you out of life so rudely, Alfred?"

Alfred couldn't help grinning. He could understand Herbert's immediate taking to their host now. "I was a student of natural science. My professor also studied vampires. When he went on an expedition to Transylvania, I accompanied him as his assistant. Is this – a skin of a giraffe?" Alfred changed the subject abruptly, not able to restrain his curiosity any longer.

Baptiste laughed. "Very well – how about this: I tell you about my time in Africa while Herbert plays a bit on the piano. Your father is always raving about your skills, Herbert – I've wanted to hear it myself for a long time."

Herbert nodded, took his wine glass, and went over to the piano that was standing on the other side of the room. While the prince's skilled fingers flew over the keys, Baptiste told about his big-game hunting in Africa. Alfred listened rapturously and even Breda, who knew these old stories already, enjoyed hearing them again – Baptiste was an excellent storyteller.

Baptiste noticed Alfred's unusual level, for a newly risen vampire, of curiosity at once. The young vampire didn't cease to ask him question after question; his thirst for knowledge seemed to be unquenchable. The ancient vampire's interest was aroused. Alfred was a special kind of vampire, he could see that instantly – just as he had seen it with Breda almost 300 years ago. But during a short break of conversation, when all were attending to their bloodwine, listening to Herbert's play, the Viennese caught Breda's look and the count shook his head smilingly.

"I'll take him with me, Baptiste. I know he'd be in best hands with you, but neither you nor I would be able to explain this to Herbert."

Baptiste was indeed disappointed – but he got over this quickly and chuckled. Yes, of course, Breda wasn't stupid. He had noticed his interest in the boy immediately. This boy had best prospects to become a very fine vampire one day and he would have been a nice challenge for him. But on the other hand, he'd have very good teachers in Breda and Herbert too – and after all these two bore his hallmarks.

Alfred, who had restrained himself from asking more questions out of pure politeness, didn't notice the small exchange of the elder vampires. He was too charmed by Herbert's music. It was true that his prowess at this instrument was basic at most, but he could well hear that Herbert had mastered it. There wasn't one wrong note, no faltering melody. Herbert played without score and Alfred didn't know the song – but still he felt like he had heard it a thousand times before. Had he known that the song was one of Herbert's self-composed pieces, his admiration would have been even greater.

Alfred sipped on his wine, breathing deeply. He felt so well right now. He had good and interesting company and the pain in his shoulders was nothing but a distant burning. Following an impulse, he decided to try out this connection of emotions he shared with Herbert. Could he willingly "send" an emotion to Herbert? He concentrated on his current contentment and simply willed himself to send it. Apparently it worked, for Herbert paused for a split second in his play. Then the prince smiled, without stopping his play or even looking up. Seconds later Alfred was flooded by a bunch of emotions. He didn't even try to unravel or name them. He knew he'd be over-challenged. All he could say was, that they were all positive emotions.

Smiling, he turned back to the conversation with Breda and Baptiste to keep on asking the saved questions.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Baptiste answered all of Alfred's questions patiently until there was a knock on the door. A servant entered, bowed and said: "Milord, the coach is here and ready."

"Ah, very well Rudolf, thank you. Tell Christian he may harness the horses," Baptiste ordered. The servant retreated and the Viennese turned to Breda. "I think it would be in your interest to make yourself familiar with the horses and the carriage? And I suppose my curious young friend here would love to see a bit more from my beautiful city?"

Alfred only looked confused, while Breda asked: "Will you accompany us?"

"You know I'm a much asked for vampire. I lingered here too long, anyway. But you know the town well enough to show the best places to those boys. So, if you'll excuse me now?"

Baptiste rose and left the room, while Herbert gazed at his father in anticipation, pausing his music. "We'll make a tour through the city? Now? Wonderful!" he exclaimed, when Breda nodded.

"Just take capes from your room – there are some in your wardrobe – and come to the patio." Breda rose and left the room, too.

Herbert went back to the table, tipping the rest of his wine into his throat in a rather ungentlemanly manner. Alfred emptied his glass with distinctly more manners.

"Come on, hurry. You'll see, Vienna is beautiful." _**(A/N: Herbert is sooo right!) **_Suddenly Herbert sighed loudly. "If only I had some money with me. There is a huge market that opens very early in the morning – there is nothing you won't find there."

They had reached their room in the meantime. Someone had cleaned it in their absence. Herbert looked into the wardrobe and found indeed several capes. He chose two for them, took Alfred by the hand, and dragged him out of the room, down the stairs, and into the patio.

Breda was already there and acquainted himself with the horses, that were harnessed in front of a landau. The servant was still busy with dismantling the top, making it an open coach for the trip through town. When all was ready, Breda climbed onto the box, while Herbert and Alfred took place in the back of the coach. Clicking his tongue Breda, commanded the horses to move and they drove out of the patio.

"Why do you have to make yourself familiar with this coach, Father?" Herbert asked and the count turned around to him.

"Because we will start our journey back with this coach tomorrow. And that means that you two will also make yourselves familiar with it tonight. I suppose you know how to steer a coach?" he asked Alfred.

The younger merely nodded and kept on looking around. He really hadn't seen much of Vienna up to now. First they had been occupied with finding the University as quickly as possible, than his senses had been addled by pain. Now he marveled at his surroundings. Herbert really didn't exaggerate: it was a wonderful city. Of course, they only had started their trip and were still in Baptiste's neighborhood. But the houses here were all pretty impressive mansions. He was sure that Vienna also had to have messier quarters.

While driving through the nightly streets, Breda commented on some buildings to Alfred and Herbert. St. Stephen's Cathedral, State Opera, City Hall, and of course, Hofburg Palace, the residence of the emperor. While driving through an unspectacular part of town, Alfred rested his head on Herbert's shoulder, watching the black clouds covering the moon once in a while. Herbert slung his arm around Alfred's shoulders and placed a kiss on his blond hair. They both felt nothing but peaceful contentment. Herbert laid a hand on Alfred's cheeks and turned his face around to be able to kiss him. Soon they had forgotten everything around them and Breda's newest comments on buildings or places were left unheard.

They were so much drawn into each other that only an insistent cough ripped them back into reality. Upset, Alfred pulled back, looking a bit ashamed, while Herbert was merely annoyed by the interruption. That changed quickly when he saw where they were. Only some steps away Alfred saw the biggest accumulation of market stalls he had ever seen. Breda had already parked the coach and an aid had brought some water and hay for the horses.

The young boy had watched the two kissing people a bit ashamed, but now he looked downright confused when he realized that Herbert was NOT a woman. Quickly, he retreated some steps – those gents had been strange to him even before, visiting the market at such an early hour, now he found them creepy.

Breda climbed off the box, while Alfred and Herbert got out of the coach. The Count pulled a small bag out of the pocket of his cape and gave it to Herbert.

"We'll meet here in two hours' time. Please, Herbert, TRY to spend the money mainly on useful things you two will need for the journey home. Alfred, please keep an eye on him. I have to do some purchases myself. Oh – and you won't need a trunk, Baptiste will provide us with one."

"How... Where... Where is the money from?" Herbert asked, astounded and thrilled at the same time. The purse was heavy, so it likely held a small fortune. "Did Baptiste..."

"Baptiste is rich beyond all measure, but I don't have to excessively strain his hospitality. Baptiste operates something like a bank for vampires – he lends money and he also treasures external money fiduciary. I deposited a larger amount of money with him a long time ago. So when I'm in this part of Europe I don't have to travel with too much money on my body. I'll visit Baptiste, anyway," Breda explained. "See you later," he added before turning around and disappearing in the clutter of stalls.

Herbert regarded the treasure in his hands almost as tenderly as he had Alfred before. Then he put it in his cape's pocket, took Alfred's hand, and pulled him on to the market. "Come on, someone here has to sell hairwash-powder."

"Eh, Herbert, I think your father didn't mean hairwash-powder when he said 'useful things for the journey'," Alfred dared pointing out. His Lord had given him an order to keep an eye on Herbert's purchases, after all.

"He said 'mainly'. We will do just that. Mainly we'll need clothes – believe me, I won't have a problem following this order. But you can't find hairwash-powder in Transylvania and I think it is useful for your nerves on our journey home. Moreover, I still have a bit money of my own," Herbert self-exculpated.

They needed quite a while to find the appropriate stall, but Herbert asked for the way rigorously. Finally he found his precious powder and ordered ten canisters at once – that would last for a while. He bought other hygienic products, such as soap, sponges, two brushes, a comb, a file, and a big soft towel for each at the same stall. Alfred reached for a razor, but Herbert took it from him again, smiling. Softly he whispered:

"Don't you think you'd have a full beard by now, if vampires still needed shaving?"

Alfred paused and realized that Herbert was right. He should have noticed this earlier. But then again, he didn't really have time during the last week.

Herbert ordered the package with the purchased products to be brought to the coach – this service was provided. For the first time he opened his father's purse and saw, that there was really more than enough money in it. He father had been foresighted – he simply knew that Herbert loved shopping.

After they could check off these items (apart from the hairwash-powder Alfred had had no complaints with any of the other things), they turned to the quarter of the market, where the merchants sold clothes.

Soon after, two pairs of trousers each and several simple shirts and jackets were on their way to the coach. Alfred was amused at how fast Herbert was able to spend a small fortune. Soon they were surrounded by merchants, trying to convince these solvent customers to buy their fine clothes.

Herbert eyed a tailcoat that was glittering purple in the electrical light. When he held it, testing in front of Alfred, he earned a horrified look.

"Is something wrong with it?" Herbert asked confused.

"I won't wear it," Alfred simply explained. Never would he don this hideous thing.

Herbert smiled at him and this smile seemed to change every bone in Alfred's body into melting wax. "But I think it really matches your eyes," Herbert purred.

"This is purple. My eyes are green."

"Exactly."

"I will not wear a purple tailcoat. Nothing purple at all, if it comes to that. And even less so when it sparkles."

"Nonsense. You'll need something for the ball. My father will surely set one soon."

"There are so many tailcoats and suits here – why has it to be this one?" Alfred slowly became desperate.

Herbert pushed forward his underlip and such looked like a pouting 3-years-old. He also behaved like one, now Alfred came to think of it and he remembered why he had supposed that it wouldn't be easy not to lose patience from time to time when being with Herbert.

"Put it back, please. We'll find something else for me, alright? But not purple or glittering."

"Very well," Herbert finally gave up and gave the tailcoat back to the merchant, shaking his head. Sometimes it had been easier to have a consort lacking of his own free will.

The merchant bowed and said: "If the gentlemen wants to follow me to my stall? I have many other designs, all in different colors. You'll surely find something worth to wear on a reception by the Emperor."

Herbert nodded and they followed the merchant, who indeed offered mainly fine clothes for society occasions. Herbert immediately saw a combination of jacket and trousers in a dark green color. Now he felt the need to kiss Alfred for his steadfast refusal before. This would be really perfect for him!

He took the set and showed it to Alfred. Smiling, Alfred took the jacket and put it on for testing. He had no problem with this color and it fitted really well. Marveling, he stroke over the cloth. His family wasn't poor at all, but not immensely rich, either. They probably wouldn't have afforded this combination, even if they would have the money if need be. But Herbert wouldn't hear any of this and paid the fancy price without batting an eye.

With this, their time had almost run out, and so had the money. Herbert therefore renounced looking for ball-clothes for himself – after all, he already had chosen the clothes for this year's ball.

On their way back to the coach, Alfred got stuck at a stall selling books. Herbert waited smilingly – they both had their preferences. And for the most part it wasn't bad that Alfred was that independent. That's what he liked so much about him – he wasn't some random brain- and emotion-less vampire, running after him like a puppy. The prince noticed Alfred's longing look and followed it to a certain book. Karl May? Wasn't that the author Alfred had enthused about yesterday? The one with America?

"Don't you know this one yet?" he asked.

"Only by name – I've already heard about it. But I couldn't find it anywhere. They say it's really good."

Spontaneously Herbert waved to the merchant, who wrapped the book into brown paper. Alfred looked a bit embarrassed – apparently there was still the expensive combination in the back of his head. But really, this book was the cheapest item they had bought this morning.

"Hey Chéri. Father said useful things for the journey. And now you won't have to retell a story you already know, you can read us a completely new story. So it won't be boring for you either. This is a useful item," Herbert explained winking and Alfred couldn't help laughing, taking the package from the merchant. He was obviously happy about this gift – more than about the clothes. Somehow it was neat, that one could make Alfred happy with such small things.

"So, but now we'll have to hurry," Alfred urged – their time must be up already.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda was waiting for them more or less impatiently. He already had planned a buffer, since Herbert tended to show up too late. So there was still enough time to drive back to Baptiste's.

This time the count sat in the back of the coach, between all of their purchases, and Alfred and Herbert climbed onto the box. They drove the coach home, changing reins after half of the way. Everything worked out quite nicely, but Breda would not have expected less. Of course Baptiste's people have found the best coach and the best horses available for his money.

They came back to Baptiste's without any further delay, where servants took their purchases and carried them into the house. It was nearing sunrise and so they went to their guest rooms immediately.

Alfred realized now that it had been an exhausting night for his shoulders in particular. He was hardly able to undress his cape without help and failed completely with the shirt. Herbert rushed to his aid and also tended to his wound again with some silverherbs.

Then Herbert inducted one of the new brushes while Alfred lay down, groaning a bit. The prince took off his shirt and climbed into bed, cuddling close to Alfred.

"Are you looking forward for home?" asked Alfred softly.

"Well, somehow I'd really like to stay a bit longer. But I can understand father – he has to go back as soon as possible. This Baptiste is a really amazing vampire, isn't he?"

"Oh yes, he is. He must have so many stories to tell," Alfred said a bit wistfully.

"I'm sure we'll come back here – no, I'm pestering Father so long, until we'll make a planned journey hitherto. Maybe just the two of us," he promised and Alfred chuckled. Herbert was crazy. But in this case, Herbert would receive his full assistance.

And with these last thoughts, they slid into rest.

**TBC**


	14. Farewell

**Farewell**

"Be careful with this," Herbert urged caution to the two vampires carrying the heavy trunk down the stairs. That was no easy work for Baptiste's servants, since the stairwell was very narrow. Furthermore, the amount of luggage was astonishing for guests that had arrived with nothing at all.

Alfred followed both the trunk and Herbert down the stairs. He carried the packed book that Herbert had bought him yesterday on the market, which he'd take inside the coach. He could barely wait to start reading it. He had looked for this copy of May's traveling reports for a long while.

His head already daydreaming about the Apache's world, Alfred paid the steps no mind anymore. What will happen will happen; Alfred missed the last step, landing unexpectedly far down on the floor, beginning to totter around. Fortunately Herbert was by his side, steadying him at once.

"S-sorry," Alfred stammered in embarrassment after dashing against Herbert's breast. He disentangled himself from the laughing prince's arms and bent to pick up the book that had fallen out of his hand during this clumsy act. For the first time since changing into a vampire, Alfred had the feeling of his face turning the red that he had had so often as a human. How awkward!

"Never mind. Are you hurt? And just after your past injury got better," Herbert added, chuckling about Alfred's clumsiness.

Alfred unbent and shook his head. Herbert noticed that Alfred's pale face shimmered darker than usual. Vampires couldn't really turn red – the stolen blood just couldn't manage it – but obviously Alfred's body tried its best to dissent with this fact. Herbert found that exceptionally sweet. Automatically he reached out to stroke a lock of Alfred's hair behind his ear. "You'll have to be a bit more careful if we want to bring you home in one piece."

"Good luck with that," Alfred murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm. Herbert was still chuckling silently. Well, if he could amuse the prince by stumbling every little while, Herbert would have a lot to laugh about.

Herbert, feeling Alfred's embarrassment, annoyance, and resignation via their blood connection, finally calmed down. Alfred's current emotions were so strong and distinct that they allowed him to read the younger vampire like the book in his hands. Herbert was careful to take this as an indication of Alfred's progress. Experience showed, that even almost emotionless vampires were able to severe and unintentional emotional outbursts – especially when they were angry.

"Ah, I think I understand now," Herbert soothed. "You're a little butterfingered – never mind, I'm able to take it." He pulled Alfred close and gave him a tender kiss.

Alfred leaned into the kiss and Herbert felt his anger subside.

"Come on, Chéri, I think we'll leave soon now," Herbert said after some time, took his cape from Alfred's arm before putting it on and dragging Alfred out onto the patio.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda and Baptiste already waited by the coach. With a smile, the old vampire noticed the book in Alfred's hand. Curiosity, the ability to marvel – those were the keys to become a good vampire.

Breda just nodded to the boys, while Baptiste, realizing the hour of goodbye to have come, tried to budge his stubborn, former pupil one last time.

"Now is the last opportunity, Breda: Do you really want none of my coachmen to accompany you? It would be much more comfortable for you."

"For the last time: No. Do you really think I could stand the billing and cooing of those two for two straight weeks while sitting opposite them?"

"Oh, I think they are a cute couple."

Breda rolled his eyes and Herbert chuckled again, while Alfred only started slowly to comprehend of whom the elder talked about right now – leading to a darker complexion again.

"Well, Father, since you want to renounce our company, you will also miss the great story Alfred is going to read to me during the journey," Herbert announced merrily.

"My beloved son, my ears are still quite well despite my age. I'm going to hear everything from inside the coach while sitting on the box." The thought alone made him pull a face.

"Well, then I wish you a lot fun, old friend," Baptiste laughed. "What book is it?" he asked Alfred.

"It's called 'Der Schatz im Silbersee' _**(A/N: 'The treasure in the Silverlake')**_," Alfred murmured. "The author's name is Karl May and..."

"Ah – the stories of good old Shatterhand," Baptiste interrupted him.

Alfred glanced up, taken aback. "You know the stories?"

"Certainly. I like good traveling reports. Do you know May's Orient-books too? Where Old Shatterhand is called Kara Ben Nemsi _**(A/N: Arabic for 'Karl, son of Germany')**_ and his horse's name is Rih instead of Hatatitla?"

Alfred shook his head, impressed that the Viennese even could remember the Indian name of Shatterhand's horse. Alfred only knew the translations of the names – Winnetou's horse was called "wind" and Shatterhand's, "lightning" in the Apache language. "No, I've heard about them, but it was hard enough to get my hands on the books about May's travels in America."

"Oh, my young friend – don't let yourself get fooled by good Mister May. He writes really well and is entertaining – but I have been there myself, with the Natives in America and in the Orient. And I tell you, Karl May has never been to one of these places."

Alfred felt disappointment rise inside him. The Viennese laid an arm around his shoulders.

"Don't give it a second thought. This book here is very good nevertheless," he said, pointing at the package in Alfred's hand. Then he turned to a servant standing in the entrance. "Paula, would you please pack Karl May's Orient-books for my young friend here? Hurry, the gentlemen want to leave."

"B—but I—I can't... You c-can't... I cannot accept this," Alfred whispered, torn between greed and politeness.

"Why not? I give them to you as a loan. You simply give them back to me on your next visit. I'm sure you will treat them with care." Then he turned to Herbert. "Actually, I wanted to give you a parting gift, too. But I've heard you already have as much hairwash-powder as possible."

"You can never have enough of this," Herbert answered with a certain note of accusation in his voice. "You can't purchase it in our area. I'm not even sure you could buy it in Kronstadt."

"Oh please, don't be angry with me," Baptiste laughed. "Because, you know – the sooner your last canister of hairwash-powder is empty, the sooner you and Alfred will come and visit me. If I gave you even more, I'd have to wait too long for you. I still have a healthy vampiristic egoism."

Herbert's frustration was gone at once and he joined in Baptiste's laughing. Even Alfred chuckled – maybe he would help the powder to go empty quicker? He'd like to come back to Baptiste soon.

Paula came rushing out of the house, handing over a hastily bound package of books to Alfred.

"Thank you very much, I will take good care of them," Alfred said and tried to shift the weight of the books so that he could take Baptiste's hand and shake it.

Baptiste shook Alfred's hand and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "I wish you a good journey and to keep your work up. These two von Krolocks will help you. I'm sure you'll be a different vampire when we meet again – without having changed too much, hopefully."

Alfred didn't know what to reply and therefore just nodded. Then he turned to the coach and laid the books inside, climbing in afterward.

Baptiste said farewell to Breda and Herbert too, before Herbert also climbed into the coach, while Breda sat himself on the box.

"Well then, I wish you a safe journey. Pray come visit me soon. And enjoy your meal!" Baptiste called, waving, while Breda steered the horses out of the yard. Herbert and Alfred looked back until Baptiste's mansion was finally out of sight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Enjoy your meal?" Alfred asked, a bit confused, but also anticipating. He wouldn't mind some blood to drink to strengthen for the upcoming journey. Bloodwine was nice, but it didn't really do much to soothe hunger.

"You'll see," Herbert merely said and couldn't be persuaded to say more.

"So, we'll be two weeks on the road?" Alfred asked, remembering another bit of the last conversation with Baptiste.

"Almost three," Breda explained from outside. Alfred was surprised that he could indeed hear the count as clearly as if he was inside the coach. He had not given his improved hearing a thought before. "We're going to need 18 nights, as long as nothing unpredictable happens, as is rarely is the case. So it's usually two to three days more. We can only drive during the night, which is hindering us a bit. But at least it's winter now and the nights are longer than the days."

"What will we do during daytime?" Alfred wanted to know.

"I've been traveling this route several times already. We'll have accommodation at different vampire-clans along the way. In case we don't reach one, there is a narrow, but lightproof cabinet in the coach-floor. That will be very cramped with three men, but it will work if need be," Breda explained.

After that they were silent for a bit, Herbert and Alfred looking out of the tiny windows to watch the town passing by. About half an hour later, the distances between houses became wider and the street was bumpier now. They had reached the outskirts. Slowly the last premises passed by and they drove into a forest.

Not even five minutes after the trees had replaced the houses, Breda announced: "Here we go."

"What happens?" Alfred asked, not understanding anything – for example, why Herbert was grinning, so pleased.

"Robbers," the prince simply said and his father added: "Alfred, I give you hereby permission to kill and drain every man you can get hands on."

Now comprehension dawned on Alfred's face and he felt tension and hunger for blood rise inside him. A small part of human-Alfred far back in his head was horrified by his anticipation of killing humans. But then again they were robbers – no loss for humanity. Actually they would render a service to society. And what's more, it meant blood and blood seemed to justify practically everything. Alfred felt his fangs stretch.

The coach stopped and they heard the racket of the fast-approaching men. Alfred took the handle to open the door, but Herbert held him back, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Remember: Do not drink if you killed in another way than a bite. The best is to stun them all and drink when none are stirring anymore. Alright?"

Alfred nodded. It had been a good idea of Herbert's to remind him on this particular rule for vampires. Herbert gave him an encouraging pat and seconds later they stormed out of the coach right between the distracted robbers – Breda shouldn't have all the fun alone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Peter held the rock tightly in his hands when the sounds of the rolling coach approached. The thought alone to beat it into the head of a human made him feel nauseous – even more nauseous than hunger made him feel.

Two weeks ago the farmer had chased him off the farm. Only because he stole a tiny bit of the aspic. Not for the first time, admittedly, but he was a tall guy and the small portions the farmer gave him to eat weren't not near enough. After some days and nights aimlessly wandering around (no other farmer wanted to employ him, since he could not show a letter of reference), he had joined the men around Henry three nights ago.

Henry had a small cabin in the middle of this forest and lived from the things he took from wealthy travelers. Admittedly, it didn't happen that often anymore that a coach was crossing this forest by night. That's why they earned their bread on markets in the Viennese outskirts with pick-pocketing.

Sometimes Peter thought back on his late parents and what they would say if they saw what had became of their son. But then hunger chased these thoughts away.

The coach was almost there now and all waited for Henry's signal. There were eight men, while the coach held maximum six men – so they outnumbered the travelers. Still Peter was clasping the stone tighter. Some of the others had knives – he didn't. He only owned the clothes he was wearing. So he had grabbed this rock when they were rushing out of the cabin after the lookout David had risen the alarm.

Finally Peter could see the coach through the leafless branches in the pale moonlight. There was only one coachman, so the number of their potential opponents reduced to five. Peter felt a tiny relief in his tension.

Henry gave the signal now. With a mighty roar, the men of the gang stormed out of the undergrowth and blocked the way. Peter joined them, realizing he was screaming along with the others. The horses balked and the coach halted. The coachman jumped from the box and entered a fist-fight with Henry and David. The other gang-members ran toward the coach door when it was flung open from the inside. Quickly, all tried to seek cover, for such an offensive counter-attack could only mean firearms. But the dreaded gunshots didn't come.

Instead, two young men (noble, by the state of their clothes) jumped out and ran toward them. Three of the men launched for the long-haired noble, while the others pounced on the other one. Peter should have helped these, but he scrupled again. The travelers were apparently unarmed and there were only three of them. So the stone in his hand would surely not be necessary.

But just when he thought about throwing the stone away he realized that something was terribly wrong. One second he had looked down at the rock in his fist, the other second, looking up, three of his companions lay lifeless on the ground.

The travelers defended themselves, and very successfully at that. Entranced, Peter watched the fight before his eyes, unable to move a muscle of his own. Each one of the travelers had already struck down one of his companions.

Henry still fought against the coachman, who had to swerve the long blade of Henry's stiletto again and again. But the man with the long black hair seemed to have the suppleness of a cat. Not one of Henry's thrusts met his aim.

A soft chink drew Peter's attention to the scenery nearer to him. The long-haired blond had knocked the knife out of one of his two remaining opponent's hands. Peter couldn't tell how the young man had achieved this, but he seemed to move super humanly fast and supply. Not long and the man that had lost his knife also lay lifeless on the ground.

Peter watched the last traveler now, fighting against just one opponent. Well, he wasn't sure one could still qualify this as fighting – the young noble seemed to rather play with Daniel than fight him. The latter was only just able to keep on his feet. The two opponents circled each other consistently, so that Peter could see the traveler's face for a moment – and started. That wasn't the face of a human, but the devil's face. Especially those long and pointy teeth scared him out of his wits.

But terror also enabled his muscles to move again. Now he was glad that he didn't throw away the rock after all. Peter rushed forwards, aiming for the head of the beast – when his fist with the stone was caught.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert was annoyed. He had just knocked out his third opponent and saw his father out of the corner of his eye already bending over one man for drinking, when he turned to Alfred, seeing how he was about to be attacked from behind. Apparently the coward, who had only watched the fight, had decided at last to join in after all. And Alfred, completely immersed in the play with his prey wasn't paying attention.

Quick as a lightning Herbert rushed to Alfred's side and blocked the blow that would have caused the younger vampire some headache. Deciding that there was enough drinkable blood lying on the ground, Herbert wrenched the rock out of the man's arm and battered his skull with it. Deadly wounded, the young man dropped to the ground. Herbert rather hated this kind of violence, but no one, NO ONE, was messing with his Chéri.

Alfred also seemed to finally be done with testing his strength and pulled his victim in a twisting turn toward him, so he could sink his teeth into his neck immediately. Herbert nodded approvingly.

Then there was silence. Deadly silence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Some hours later, the coach drove into the yard of a small premise on a hill, far away from the lights of the next village. The count had driven the coach the whole night long and Herbert and Alfred hadn't really tried to convince him to switch places.

Their bellies bulging, they rather lay than sat in the coach. Idly, they had limited conversation on the bare necessities, meaning they had been silent during most of the drive. Not even Alfred felt like beginning to read the book. He realized that vampires that had sucked dry two grown men didn't feel any different from humans after Christmas-dinner.

The vampires from the premise showed them into two small, but clean guest-rooms and left them alone afterward. Breda wished the boys a good rest and retreated into his chamber.

Herbert opened the trunk that some servants had brought into their room and pulled out the light clothing for the rest. Alfred took the clothes he was reaching him and changed at once.

This time Herbert didn't miss a moment of it – but couldn't feel particularly aroused, since Alfred seemed distant. But Alfred's emotions were so weak and indistinct that Herbert had a hard time interpreting them. Up to now he had been able to tie Alfred's silence to their feast and the pleasantly full bellies afterward. Now he was sure that there was more to it. So the prince also changed quickly and sat down on the bed next to Alfred, who already sat on the edge, looking distantly into the fire.

Softly, Herbert slung an arm around Alfred's shoulder and placed a kiss on his temple. He watched Alfred invitingly and before he could ask, Alfred started to speak.

"How do you and your father do it? When it happens. Or don't you even know this moment anymore?"

"I can't follow, Chéri. When what happens? What moment?"

"The moment you lose yourself."

Herbert regarded Alfred tenderly. What a special vampire he was! Reflective faculty, when he was still so young. Of course he knew now what Alfred was talking about.

"It gets easier to control with age, knowing your own abilities and having it done often enough," he explained truthfully.

"I... nothing could have stopped me. And I didn't want anything to stop me. It was – pure joy of killing. No, not killing. Torturing. I played with that man like a cat plays with a mouse. Without pity, without sympathy. Snuffing out his life, not because I had to for my own survival, but because it was fun," Alfred whispered haltingly, searching for words.

"Do you pity the man now?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, not even now. I'm not even sorry that I killed him. But – I'm horrified of how I did it. After all, I seem to be nothing but a monster."

Herbert took Alfred's hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "You're not a monster, Chéri. Just the fact that you don't feel well about your deed proves that. How many vampires do enjoy the hunt like this, what do you think? Each and every one, Alfred. That's the nature of the demon inside us. You are a young vampire with astonishing abilities. But even you will be overpowered by the demon in a hunting situation. It will happen the next times too, that you will 'lose yourself', as you have phrased it so fittingly. But the wonderful thing with you is, that you return to yourself afterward. Most vampires stay lost."

Alfred regarded Herbert's words with great interest. He felt hope flooding back into him. Herbert was right – he had found himself again. He had found this Alfred, who was looking at his deed disgustedly. And suddenly the deed itself seemed less horrible.

"Neither you nor your father played with their opponents like me," Alfred observed and Herbert felt relieved that he sounded far less downcast now.

"Father and I are fully aware of the abilities of our body, while you still have to test them. You still have no idea how fast and strong you are now as a vampire. It will take some time till you know your limits. It will happen often in the next time, that you will play with your prey – be it a human or an animal. And don't fool yourself – Father and I are playing too. It's in our nature, as I said. But we rather play with our human victims psychologically than physically now."

Alfred pondered about this for a while. It made sense and soothed his troubled mind. It put his deed into perspective. Finally smiling, he added: "Like your father seducing a young girl yearly to invite to the ball, just to kill her before ditching her?"

"You understand me," Herbert confirmed grinning. "That's exactly the kind of our game."

A big burden seemed to be lifted from Alfred's shoulders and he took a deep breath. To be honest, his biggest fear had been that Herbert might be repulsed by his lack of self control, his barbaric acting. He was still so far below Herbert and his father – what if Herbert had realized this, loosing his interest in him?

But obviously that wasn't the case. Rather the contrary – Herbert was here by his side, soothing him, explaining everything calmly and understandably. Alfred tried to find a way to pay Herbert back for all he did and had done for him since his changing. Well – he had an idea what Herbert would regard as the best payment, but it was too late for that, with the sunrise being that close. Probably there would not be time for this until they reached the castle, finally. But that didn't mean that Herbert had to suffer completely.

Alfred gave the prince a cheeky look and played his last sentence back like a tennis-ball. "I just hope it's not just a game with me?" he whispered with a telling voice, grinning at him.

A shiver went down Herbert's back and he felt his privates responding at once to Alfred's hoarse whispering. But as much as he was sorry about it, this region of his body still had to have a little patience. Yet he was determined to make the most of the remaining minutes until sunrise.

"Nonsense," he whispered back. "With you I prefer the physical play." With that he pushed Alfred's upper body gently back, rolling himself over him.

While Herbert began to shower him with wild kisses, Alfred struggled himself farther up the bed, pulling Herbert with him. Finally he lay with his head on the pillow, while Herbert opened the upper buttons of his shirt, starting to kiss collarbone and breast. Alfred closed his eyes and simply enjoyed. The sensation of Herbert's privates pressing against his own was incredibly good and the kisses left burning marks on his skin.

Much too early, the sun sent leaden tiredness and they fell asleep as they were, Herbert's lips still on Alfred's breast.

**TBC**


	15. Fire

**Fire**

Their journey proceeded without any unwanted disturbances. Only the weather gave them a hard fight. On the fourth night of their trip, winter came with all its might upon them, bringing merciless cold along. Admittedly, there was barely any snow and they didn't get stuck. But even as vampires, being less sensitive for temperatures, the bitter cold nipped at them uncomfortably. The three vampires took the reins in turns of, at longest, one hour shifts, since the ice-cold airstream afflicted them harshly.

Whenever Alfred was inside the coach, he read May's book to the other two. All of them had been taken in by the story at once. So it also happened that Herbert or Breda kept on reading when it was Alfred's turn on the box.

Repeatedly, they were badgered by highwaymen. They used these occasions to stretch their muscles a bit, regain some movement. Sometimes they felt like they could drink not one more drop of blood (but they always found an empty spot in their bellies, nevertheless).

While Alfred had been shocked by his behavior during his first hunt, Herbert's explanations had eliminated his qualms. He always was the last to play around with his prey and Herbert encouraged him, shouting him useful tips, showing him by this that his behavior was completely normal for a young vampire.

And since all had gone that well, they arrived in Kronstadt quiet early on the 17th night of their journey. If they kept on driving, they would reach the castle on the next night, around midnight.

"Will we call in with Robert?" Herbert asked his father, who steered the horses through the narrow streets of the town.

"Yes. I at least have to thank him for the help he provided for you two, getting you to Vienna. Moreover, I still owe him money for that," Breda answered.

Herbert nodded – he knew how much his father hated to be in someone's debt.

"I think we'll stay with Robert for the rest of the night and the day. If we ride off tomorrow evening by horse only, we'll reach the castle in the morning. I think we all deserve a little rest now," the count added.

Alfred and Herbert both took a deep breath. It would be good to have little break from the coach that they didn't have to spend with rest. Whenever they had arrived at their shelters for the day, it had been early in the morning, leaving them no time for anything.

Alfred felt a certain tension rise. The few minutes they had had for themselves they had always savored. Herbert's tender touches and kisses had stirred a longing in Alfred that he had never known before. He supposed that by now Herbert wasn't the only one wishing for a bit more time in the morning. And he was quite certain that Herbert wouldn't miss this opportunity tonight.

Whenever Alfred tried to imagine what could happen, he felt true anticipation. He knew quite well how it had to work physically and he could imagine that it might hurt. But he had always been able to take pain quite well. And up to now, all Herbert had done to and with him had pleased him.

Being so much in thought, Alfred only recognized the familiar patio when Breda had already halted the horses. They had arrived at Robert's mansion. Alfred remembered the first and last time he had been here, only a few weeks ago. He had come a long way since that night. He felt more like an independent person now than he had back then. A person with emotions and a will of their own – even if it was still hard for him.

Whenever they had been quiet during the ride, not reading the book, Herbert and he had played a silent game. At the beginning, Alfred had surreptitiously picked one of Herbert's emotions that consistently flooded him in bulk via their blood-connection, trying to remember and name it. He was quite sure that Herbert had soon discovered these efforts, for now the emotion he picked seemed to become stronger, such better to tell apart from the others, while Herbert smiled knowingly. At the end of their journey he had succeeded from time to time to create the chosen emotion himself – it demanded great effort of will and seemed to drain him from power, but it was a success nevertheless. His self seemed to slowly remember how to feel. But it still would be a long way until he would be able to feel as unconsciously and effortlessly as Herbert.

But for now he followed Herbert out of the coach, bracing against the cold that began to bite into him at once. A stable-boy, well wrapped in thick clothes, cared for the horses and a servant waited, shivering, by the door to show them inside.

The servant took a deep bow before the count. "Your Excellency, it's a pleasure to welcome you into this house, as always. If you would please follow me into the parlor? My Lord and his wife are there."

Breda nodded and followed the servant, bringing Herbert and Alfred along with him. The servant knocked on the door and opened it, when someone called "Come in" from the inside.

"His Excellency, Count von Krolock, his son and a companion are here, milord," the servant announced.

"His Excellency?" The voice sounded most pleased. "Well, well, let them in."

The servant stepped aside and let the gentlemen enter. They went into the parlor, Alfred already knew from their first visit. But he had never before seen the lady sitting at Robert's side in an armchair by the fire. The bald vampire had risen from his seat and went toward Breda with widespread arms. His wife, as Alfred supposed, laid aside her knitting and rose too, but kept in the background.

"Your Excellency! What a joy to see you again, whole and healthy. I have been most worried after Herbert's last visit. I am greatly relieved that he was able to free you."

"Only with your help, Robert. If you hadn't arranged and paid for Herbert and Alfred's passage to Vienna, their help would probably have come too late," Breda answered and took Robert's outstretched hand. "Lady Sisia," he added with a nod toward the woman, who made a curtsy when addressed.

"Why, certainly!" Robert merely said. "I'm just glad that it helped. Greetings to you, too, Herbert," he added. On their first visit Alfred hadn't minded Robert's ignorance toward him, now he felt silent anger rise inside him to be overlooked again so consequently – Baptiste always had acknowledged him and in his eyes, the Viennese was superior to Robert.

Robert offered them seats and wanted to know everything that had happened. Breda told the story in short words.

"May I ask for your hospitality and two rooms? We'd like to spend rest here then and ride on to the castle tomorrow."

Robert nodded and his mustache quivered. "Of course, of course, not a problem at all. But, Your Excellency, be cautious. It might be better to not arrive at the castle at morning."

"Why?" Breda asked, not able to leave concern out of his voice.

"Well – it's nothing. But it's my duty to warn you nevertheless, as a friend. When Herbert was here to ask for help he had also written a letter, which one of my servants brought to the castle. When he came back he reported me of a great turmoil in the castle. Your administrator, this Ottoman..."

"Kadir," Breda helped, while he saw his fears were confirmed already.

"Exactly. He seemed – to behave specialy. There were some remarks toward my servant, which made him think... Well, as I said, it doesn't necessarily mean something. But you should be prepared nevertheless."

"Thank you, Robert, I will be. If I ever saw a potential rival among my vampires for my claim of power, it would have been Kadir. It is possible that my sudden absence led to his decision to finally reach out for my crown." He turned around to Herbert. "What was written in the letter?"

"A made-up explanation of why we had to leave the castle and postpone the ball that suddenly. Also -," Herbert paused, while the raised eyebrows of his father told him that this was the time to make a new confession. "Also the permission to hunt three men from the villages, as amends for the ball." Herbert's voice had gone more silent by the word.

"That was my idea," Alfred said at once in a loud and clear voice. "I supposed a gift like this would distract them from the missed drop of blood during the ball."

Breda nodded and chuckled inwardly about Alfred's defense of Herbert. Another time he congratulated himself for choosing to bring Alfred along to his son. Who knew? Maybe his best gift for Herbert ever.

"Yes, that should have been a good device to calm them down. But Kadir – if he really set his mind on fighting me, having brooded over it for a while now..."

"Well, maybe he'll be surprised by your return. He might not expect you," Robert added hopefully.

But Breda merely shook his head. "I already sent a letter from Vienna, informing him about the date of my departure there. So he'll know when I'll be back soonest and he'll be expecting me. But do not worry – Kadir is no match for me."

The count's voice was firm and confident, but Alfred felt unrest nevertheless. His lord was threatened? By one of their own clan? Well, as long as he could throw himself between the count and this Ottoman, he would do exactly this.

He felt a hand on his arm and felt Herbert's presence. "Robert, we're really tired from the journey. I hope you don't mind us retreating, though it's still quite early?"

"But no, Herbert, I don't mind. You know where the guest-rooms are, so simply take the one you always use when being in Kronstadt," Robert smiled.

Herbert rose and Alfred followed suit. "I wish you all a good rest, Robert, Sisia, Father," he said before leaving the room, dragging Alfred with him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Silently, Herbert led Alfred to said guest-room. The room was brightly lit, for the moon shone in through the window. It was bitter-cold though, since it apparently had been out of use for quite a while. Alfred went to the fireplace at once, piling wood up.

"Should there be a fight between Father and Kadir, you mustn't intervene," Herbert explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed, watching Alfred intently.

Green eyes sparkled at him rebelliously. "Why not?" Alfred asked, quite aggressively.

Herbert sighed. "Because this is the law. Every vampire has the right to fight with his master for the power. It's a vampire against vampire fight, no third person allowed. There aren't many prevailing laws among vampires, but this is one of the highest rated."

"But I couldn't. How could I stand aside, watching someone trying to destroy His Excellency?"

Herbert looked at him with a sad face. "How often, do you think, I had to watch this? There will always be one or the other vampire challenging my father. It's always hard for me, but in the meantime I can stand the fear. Probably because I have seen Father win all those fights effortlessly up to now. But I can't stop worrying. What if this time it's different? But I couldn't change it either way."

Alfred looked away to ignite the kindling that he had piled up over big chunks of wood. Afterward, he sat down beside Herbert. The flames licked over the brushwood, consuming it, while slowly some tongues of flame slunk onto the bigger pieces. Herbert slung an arm around his shoulders.

"When you intervened in Vienna, keeping Father from being stabbed by that knife, you had shown him a big service. Father will never forget something like that. But in the case of a duel – not only would you damage his reputation, you would insult him. It wouldn't be a favor and Father would be quite angry with you."

The fire flickered now merrily and Alfred gave up his resistance. He nodded devotedly and felt tension drop in Herbert's body. But there was still one thing he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you prevent this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well – you said Kadir was not as apathetic as the other vampires, because he did administration for you, because he had a task. Wouldn't it be exactly these vampires challenging their masters?" he wondered, thinking not only of the count, but also all the other vampire lords he met yet. "Why even suffer such vampires? You try very hard right now to teach me emotions. Am I not a potential danger to your father and you make me one?"

"Firstly: It's not only the – let's say more civilized vampires to challenge their lords for power. But you're not wrong – usually it is them. But still – you can't lead a social life with those vampires on the graveyard. Admittedly, Father and I have each other for company, but you get bored by just one companion after centuries. We need other interlocutors, too. Even if that means danger provoking your own downfall."

Alfred nodded. He understood what Herbert tried to say. But now he decided to not worry tonight anymore. He looked at Herbert expectantly, thinking he could feel the other vampire's unrest already. "So, what will we do now with the rest of this night?"

Herbert grinned. "Oh, I can think of many things," he whispered back, kissing him gently on his temple.

"I think it's really cold in here and it will take some time until the fire has heated the room up... What about a bath?"

Herbert pulled a face and it was clear how much he liked that idea – that is to say, not at all. Alfred was confused – he had won the impression that there was nothing better in the world for Herbert than a bath. Herbert felt Alfred's irritation (and disappointment?) and explained: "Robert's townhouse might be quite cozy, but you won't find a modern bathroom here. Just a wooden tub, down in the kitchen. I prefer to wait a little longer and take a bath in a real tub."

"Oh – well, to be honest, I have had it with wooden tubs. So, what then?"

Herbert placed a hand on Alfred's cheek and turned his face toward himself. "I know how to get warm," he whispered and kissed these soft lips, tasting the flavor of Alfred's tongue again. He just couldn't get enough of it.

Alfred shrugged his shoulders inwardly. Well – if Herbert couldn't wait any longer. Obviously, he didn't care about freezing. He kissed Herbert back, fumbling around with the prince's shirt. He found that he was quite good at unbuttoning it. As soon as the last button was opened, he let his hands glide over Herbert's hard breast, hips, and back, pulling Herbert ever closer.

Herbert sighed softly when he felt Alfred's hands on his skin. Never before had one of his consorts taken lead so soon. But his Chéri was right with one thing: It was damn cold in this room. But Herbert knew how to find a way. Slowly he rose, pulling the young vampire along with him. With one hand, he groped behind his back for the bedclothes, throwing the two thick sheets in front of the fireplace.

Alfred watched him bemusedly, recognizing Herbert's plan, which he found excellent. Softly, he broke away from Herbert, going over to the fireplace in order to adjust the sheets. Then he kicked off his shoes, knelt down on the sheets, looking up at Herbert expectantly. He didn't know if he should undress – or if Herbert wanted to do that part for him.

Herbert gazed at him with a look Alfred could not interpret. But it seemed to light a fire inside him. Slowly the prince came nearer, the open, dark-red shirt hung loosely at his shoulders, revealing a flawless ivory-colored breast. Delicately defined muscles showed under his skin. The black, tight pants were distinctly baggy at the crotch. Alfred realized his mouth had gone dry by this sight. He couldn't help but thinking that the prince was beautiful.

Carelessly, Herbert got rid of his shoes by stepping himself on the heels and finally knelt down to Alfred. He slowly opened the younger's shirt, pulling it over his shoulders. He then laid his hands on Alfred's hips, pulling him closer, leaning into an intense kiss.

While Herbert's kisses wandered from Alfred's mouth via the neck to his breast, he gently pushed Alfred back until he lay on his back. The lower Herbert's lips wandered, the stronger the shivers running through Alfred's whole body became. He felt his trousers getting too tight and wished for Herbert to touch him like he did in Baptiste's bathroom.

As if Herbert had heard Alfred's wish, he opened the pants now, pulling out his manhood. Alfred groaned and let his head fall back on the sheet, closing his eyes in relish when the prince's fingers closed gently, yet firmly around him. He opened them again when he felt something wet – unbelieving, he watched Herbert, superior to him not only in means of vampire ranks, but also by usual society rules, pleasing him with his mouth. His desire grew as the pleasure flooded his body. Never had he felt something that compared to this.

Herbert was overjoyed. Not only could he finally indulge this special part of Alfred, exploring it with his tongue, he was also enthusiastic about his lover's reaction. The hardness of Alfred's member was only one indicator of his extreme arousal, along with a face shining with bliss.

All of this only increased his own longing for this young man and Herbert felt like he could wait not one second longer. So he paused his indulging Alfred and pulled his pants off. Now his Chéri lay completely naked in the shine of the fire. How beautiful he was. Herbert rose to get rid of his own trousers and shirt, throwing them onto the bed.

Alfred needed a moment to recover when Herbert broke loose from him. Everything in him screamed for Herbert to keep on doing what he did. He watched the elder vampire undress and regarded, for the first time, an erect penis – and as far as he could tell it, he liked the looks of it. It definitely didn't repel him. Then he felt the wish to follow Herbert's lead and please him exactly as he did him. So he knelt before the prince, who just turned around to him after throwing his cloth on the bed, curiously letting his tongue glide over the hard flesh.

For a moment, he thought Herbert would collapse on him, but the prince rallied again, leaning his head back, placing his hands on Alfred's hair to show him to continue. And Alfred did the best he could to indulge his consort.

Like the surf crashing on the shore, the flames shot through Herbert's body, starting from the point that his Chéri was licking and kissing while his green eyes flashed at him. Not long and Herbert knew it would be over before it even got started. So he pushed Alfred gently away and gestured for him to show him his back, grabbing him by the hips. He moistened two fingers to start preparing Alfred.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Some time later, both were lying sweaty and exhausted on the sheets, idly caressing the other one's skin. Deeply felt satisfaction filled them both while the echoes of their lust still rang in their bodies.

It had been a sharp pain when Herbert had finally come to him, but it had subsided quickly and the strange pressure soon had turned to blissful ecstasy.

Herbert had finally reached paradise. They matched just perfectly. He had been astounded at how quick Alfred had come over the pain – after all he had felt it as if it was his own. And then he had also felt his Chéri's responsive reaction, felt his pleasure, increasing by this his own – it was mind-boggling how the bond of blood added to this act. He had been both in one – dominant and sub-dominant, active and passive. He had known he wouldn't be able to stand for long, because of this new experience.

When Alfred had presented him his neck, unconsciously for sure, instinctively, Herbert reacted at once. Greedy had he licked his tongue over the no longer pulsing carotid, plunging his teeth into it in the next moment. Alfred's taste filled his mouth and Herbert drank a few big gulps without hesitation, since Alfred had fed quite enough during the previous nights. When he released his neck, the small wound closed within the blink of an eye.

Alfred had gasped startled, when he had felt the stinging pain in his neck. But only a split second later he felt the erotic effect, that this among vampires most intimate tenderness, had on him.

When Herbert had finally found release inside him, Alfred still was extremely aroused. Spontaneously the prince had decided, that Alfred was worthy of receiving something, that only very few men ever had gotten – him. With a little help of Herbert Alfred found his way into blissful oblivion.

Now Alfred lay in Herbert's arms, wondering if it would feel the same with a woman. But no matter how, a woman could never give him what Herbert had. "That was wonderful," Alfred finally croaked.

Herbert only smiled. He was completely happy. All of his hopes seemed to have come true. He believed Alfred's words to be true; after all, he could rule out a pretense – he would have felt it. Finally he didn't have to rely on his consort telling the truth.

"You know," Alfred added, after stealing another kiss from Herbert's lips, "in the beginning, I only agreed because I didn't want to end up on this cemetery."

Herbert sighed softly. He knew that. It has always been the first reason for everyone. But still, this sentence didn't trouble him – he recognized the use of past-tense in it. He answered: "Maybe you'll be angry with me, because I tell you after I got what I wanted from you, but you really don't have to fear that cemetery ever again. We share a bond of blood, I feel what you feel. Do you really think I would like you to vegetate among these emotionless creatures there?"

Herbert felt amusement via the blood-connection. Alfred looked at him with the cheeky look he had learned to love already. "I know," he simply said, bedding his head back on Herbert's shoulder.

It was true. Alfred, being nobody's fool, had been completely aware of the effects of their bond of blood quite early after learning about it. He had known he wouldn't have to rely on their bargain anymore to escape that graveyard. But he had chased these thoughts far away. It had been easier to pretend to have to endure Herbert's tenderness, getting over his subliminal fears and acquired views. But now he knew he wouldn't need this pretense any longer. Herbert could have him as often as he would.

Herbert also understood what Alfred tried to tell him with these two small words. Tears of joy welled up in his eyes. He pulled Alfred even closer to him, kissing him on his blond locks. "You are so special, Chéri. I want to see you, feel you, understand you like I never did another man before. You have no idea how happy I am that you possibly want the same."

Alfred answered with another kiss. He didn't want to make any promises concerning his emotions. For the truth of it, he knew them as well as the Swiss Alps at the moment. But still Herbert's words had sent warmth through his body and he was grateful for them.

After that, they spoke no more. They were simply content in being in the company of the other one, feeling his naked skin. When exhaustion turned to tiredness, they grudgingly moved over to the bed. They didn't want to move at all (and Alfred noticed moving somehow hurt), but both wanted to be covered with something while sleeping and since they lay on those blankets, they had to move. But seconds later they lay in the bed, snuggling into one another, falling asleep within only a few minutes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"WAKE UP!"

A shout ripped Alfred out of sleep. He had difficulties getting awake; tiredness seemed to press his eyelids down. Wasn't it time for rest? Why was Herbert still awake?

"Alfred, please, wake up!" The panic in Herbert's voice helped. Finally Alfred managed to open his eyes. Now he saw Herbert putting on his shirt frantically. He was already wearing his pants. Alfred's trousers laid on the bed.

"Whazzup?" Alfred mumbled.

"Come on, put your clothes on. Fire!"

That worked. All at once, Alfred was wide awake. He jumped out of the bed, grabbed his pants and put them on in the blink of an eye.

"Where?" he asked tensely. A look out of the window revealed a disturbing brightness. The sun did not shine yet, but only due to the thick fog over the city.

"In this house or the one beside this," Herbert answered shortly and Alfred stuck his arms through the sleeves of the shirt Herbert was holding to him.

Poorly dressed, they rushed to the door. The glowingly hot door-handle should have been a warning to him, but his brain was still not running at its normal speed. He tore open the door -

and a wall of fire rolled over the two vampires.

**TBC**


	16. Vengeance

**Vengeance**

The scream, that came from Herbert's lips, when he yanked Alfred back, was drowned by the roaring of the flames. The young vampire shielded his face with his hands in a poor attempt to protect himself. Blinded, he staggered backwards; back into the room that meant no shelter anymore.

Herbert gave Alfred a push, moving him over to the windows, before he ran to the fireplace. He grabbed the heavy poker, rushed to where Alfred stood and smashed the glass behind him. At once the fresh supply of air dragged the flames into its direction, so without further ado Herbert took Alfred's hand. They ran recklessly through the smashed glass onto the small balcony outside before throwing themselves over the railing.

While falling Alfred remembered that their room was on the third floor. But the expected hard impact failed to appear. His vampire's instincts took over the control of his body and he landed safely on his feet like a cat, absorbing the impact easily with his knees.

They straightened up and Herbert pulled Alfred into a close embrace. Alfred apparently had not yet realized how close he had been to his final death.

But though they escaped the deadly flames, they were still far from being safe. It was morning and the sun could break through the fog any moment. They looked around to orientate themselves. Not far away they saw a blond woman cowering on the ground, sobbing loudly. Lady Sisia.

The rushed over to her and Alfred wondered, what the residue in her hands was – it seemed to be mere dirt to him. But in the same moment he felt Herbert's horror, he realized that the vampiress didn't have dirt, but dust in her hands. Not any dust. Dust that had most certainly been her lord husband Robert some minutes before.

"Sisia..." Herbert began, lost for words, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. Concerned he and Alfred looked around for a sign of the Count.

He suddenly appeared out of the thick smoke that now covered the patio by. A short glance at Lady Sisia told him all he needed to know. Gently but firmly he took the vampiress, that appeared to have been turned in her mid-thirties, by the arm, pulling her up. Distressed Sisia tried to grasp another handful of the dust, but it ran through her fingers like water.

"Lady Sisia, we have to go underground, a cellar, anywhere. Do you have any shelter from the sun?" Breda asked urgently, while humans were already bustling about – alarmed neighbors and obviously even firefighters with an engine.

The vampiress seemed hardly conscious, but Breda urged her further on and finally she pointed vaguely to a neighboring house diagonally across from the street. "There is a secret entrance to a shelter underneath the cellar of the house. The owners don't know," she whispered faintly.

Breda nodded. "Let's go, now!" He linked arms with Lady Sisia and marched on. After some steps he looked back to see that both – his son and his consort – hadn't moved a bit. "What?" he called.

Alfred stared into the direction of the stables. Thay were not on fire yet, but that was only a matter of time – the townhouse itself burned like a giant torch. "Baptiste's books," he whispered. They had left almost all their luggage in the coach. One of Robert's servant should have brought it to the castle within the next nights.

Herbert looked as terrified as Alfred into the same direction. "My hairwash-powder," he moaned in a blatant dismay.

They both staggered backwards, when a mighty force took them by the scruff of their necks. "Hurry," the count snarled in annoyance before turning around, taking Lady Sisia's arm again and rushing to their shelter. This time Alfred and Herbert followed.

And not one of them took notice of the vampire watching them through the dense smoke, hearing every word.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sisia showed them a huge boulder in the spacious garden of the neighboring house. Alfred and Herbert rolled it aside with joined forces. Underneath was the entrance to a large room. Made for emergencies, vampires could survive in there for some weeks. It was kept in well order. Every vampire-clan needed a shelter like this in the immediate surroundings of their home, for cases such as this.

Tired out physically and psychically, adding to the tiredness caused by the sun, the four vampires settled on the mattresses laid out on the walls.

"Sisia, what has happened?" Breda asked.

The vampiress seemed to have composed herself a bit. The tears ran no more, but the pain was clearly visible in her face. She ground ceaselessly the grain of dust still in her hands. Finally she said with a choked voice:

"Robert and I wanted to go to bed after you had retired, Your Excellency. We just left the parlor when suddenly a man passed us by – a vampire I've never seen before and Robert didn't seem to know him either. He – he had a torch and appeared to be looking for something. He seemed to be completely surprised by our appearance. Robert asked sharp questions at once – who he is, what he wanted. And then -" Sisia sobbed, covering her face with her hands, "- then he just attacked him. Out of the blue, all of a sudden. He took the torch and – set fire to Robert." Tears flooded down her face once more. Crying she added: "I know I should have stopped him, warning the others – but I had to help Robert. I..."

Her voice failed as her whole body shook, but Breda had learned enough anyway. He could imagine the rest. The unknown attacker could be none other than Kadir. Obviously the Ottoman knew he would not stand a chance in a fair duel. So he decided to eradicate him in his sleep. But they had thwarted his plans by sitting so long together, chatting.

It had indeed been late when he had retired. For one thing it had been nice to talk to Robert and Sisia again. For another thing he didn't feel like going upstairs into his guestroom, that he knew was directly beside Herbert's. The walls of Robert's townhouse weren't exactly thick and there were some things he just didn't need to hear.

So Kadir had waited until the early morning for his assassination, hoping that his lord might be asleep already. But their late retiring had caught him on the wrong foot. Breda felt cold rage well up inside him.

Alfred had laid his head on Herbert's shoulder. He was dog-tired and wide awake at the same time. There were dozens of questions in his head he felt the need to ask, but Herbert merely shook his head subtly, when he looked at him.

They all were silent for a while, dwelling on thoughts, when suddenly Lady Sisia rose, walking over to the secret entrance. Alfred watched in confusion as Sisia opened the door and apparently was about to leave the shelter. When neither count nor his son seemed to make any attempts to interfere, Alfred stirred to stand up and restrain the vampiress. The sun would be shining now for sure.

But Herbert took his arm, pulling him back before he had risen completely and shook his head sadly. The count, having noticed Alfred's movement, said calmly: "Let her go."

Alfred looked back to Lady Sisia climbing the ladder.

"But – but the sun...", he stuttered.

"The sun holds no horror for her anymore," Herbert explained gently. "It's the mere existence that is now too much to bear for her. Robert was not only her sire, but also her great love. She cannot be without him."

Alfred settled down again, laying his head back on Herbert's shoulder. He might not be the most emotional person right now, but he certainly felt the tragedy of this whole situation. Was it only mere hours ago that he had felt so blissful in Herbert's arms?

"Do you think it was Kadir?", Herbert asked his father.

The count nodded. "I can't think of anyone else. We will see where to get horses tomorrow and return to the castle as quickly as possible. It's possible that Kadir believes me gone and that he won't expect me."

"And then you will duel him?" asked Alfred.

"No," Herbert answered. "Attempted devious murder is an exclusion criterion for the right of a duel, I'd say."

"If Kadir really had planned to take me out with this assault, he forfeited this right indeed. The vampire's tribunal will certainly convict him for this deed. I'm still not sure if I should call the tribunal and turn him in, or if I'm merciful and just behead him with the sword. Somehow I don't feel like he deserves mercy," Breda explained with a murderous expression on his face.

"Vampire's tribunal?" Alfred asked astonished. Hell, there was still so much to learn for him. "What would be his punishment? If beheading is the merciful way?"

"Kadir did not only plan to murder his lord instead of facing a fair duel, he has also extinguished a whole innocentclan as a side-effect. I'm sure he'd get the maximum penalty: He'd be walled in," Herbert explained unmoved.

Alfred didn't ask any more. He could vividly imagine this punishment. An immortal creature, walled in, for all eternity alone with itself, darkness and hunger. A terrible idea, which sent a shiver down Alfred's back. Another kind of shiver, than he had felt some hours before, with Herbert in front of that fire. Fire...

"Why couldn't Lady Sisia help Robert?" he asked. She had been a vampiress, surely she would have had enough strength to pull off one of the curtains to wrap him in or stripping him of his burning clothes, or...

"There is not much really deadly for a vampire, but fire is one of those things," Herbert explained softly, caressing Alfred's cheek. "When the sun catches us, it's not her light that kills us, you know? She sets us on fire. It's different than with humans. If a vampire catches fire, they burn – within seconds, turning to dust. Lady Sisia had had no time to save him, if he really caught fire."

Another wave of horror swept over Alfred. Had he really been so close to his final damnation? What if Herbert hadn't pulled him back at once, what if the fire rolling over him had set his clothes on fire? Unconsciously he pressed nearer to Herbert. He was quite certain that he owed him his unlife now . Herbert pulled him close, kissing him on his front, sending comfort over their blood-connection.

"Let's try to get some sleep," Breda suggested. He seemed to be completely tired as well. "There is nothing more we could do until the evening."

The boys nodded and lay down on their mattress. Despite their agitation, exhaustion finally won the battle and they fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cautiously the three vampires left the shelter on the next evening. The aftermath of last night's fire was a scene of utter devastation.

Robert's townhouse had burned down to the ground, the stables had had no chance to stand up to the fire. The two directly neighboring houses had been damaged, too, but apparently only in the attics.

They stared at this scenery for a couple of minutes and wondered what to do. Then the count said with a leaden voice: "Come on. Let's see if we can find horses somewhere. It's still early in the evening, we might find yet a farmer to sell us some."

They turned around – and saw a vampire standing there, watching them intently. They just stared at each other for a while, until Herbert said: "Hey, aren't you Robert's stable-boy?"

The vampire looked down on the ground, visibly affected. Herbert sighed pitifully. There were almost always one or two vampires to survive the end of their lords. Which didn't necessarily mean that they didn't suffer.

"Can... Can I come with you, Your Excellency? I... I don't know where to go," the boy asked shyly.

Breda pressed his lips together. Every vampire-lord eschewed having someone in their clan, who wasn't damned to obey them – Breda was no exception of this.

"What's your name?" Breda asked to gain more time.

"William, Your Excellency. I'm hardworking and I promise I would never bother you. I'm very good with animals."

"I already have a stable-boy," Breda mused, but William had already continued his talking.

"If Your Excellency wanted to follow me? I've saved something for you. Maybe I can change your mind yet." He pointed into the direction which he had came from and Breda finally nodded. Well, he would look at whatever William wanted to show him – that at least did the poor lost boy deserve.

The young vampire led the way up the street and down a narrow alley, until they reached a lost looking areal. Hidden behind overgrown hedges – stood their landau along with both their horses.

Both, Alfred and Herbert cried out in surprise and rushed to the coach. One look inward was enough and they embraced happily. Their precious treasures were safe and whole. Breda looked at William amazed, who smiled cheekily at him.

"I thought you'd need something to go back to the castle. And I overheard that there were some belongings of your son and his consort in there, that are very important to them. Moreover I could escape the sun in the coach-floor. So I harnessed the horses – which wasn't exactly easy, since they were quite panicky, see? And I brought the coach here into safety."

Breda looked at the stable-boy a bit more, before he began to chuckle. The young vampire gazed him up expectantly. Well – he should have a chance, since he had been working hard for it already.

"Alright, I will take you along. How about climbing that box now?"

"Yes, milord – Your Excellency," William called with bright eyes and hurried to harness the horses. It was true that the loss of his lord hurt him much, but beyond that grief also lay a long forgotten freedom, though it seemed far away yet. Now he was just happy that he had a place to go to. He was grateful, that the Count von Krolock really had admitted him – he knew that this was no matter of course. He'd pay back the trust. The thought to found a clan of his own, being lord to his sired creatures, as the majority of free vampires did, was simply absurd to him. He was no lord. He had always been a servant.

When the animals were ready he climbed on the box, took the reins and gestured the horses to trot on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda sat opposite of his son and his consort, right beside the bundle that was eyed with great affection by both of them. He shook his head inwardly. Yes – he had found the right companion for his son – obviously Alfred was as materialistic as Herbert. Though he could understand Alfred's interest better – he also thought books to be more worth than Herbert's cosmetic products.

The ex-student had snuggled close to Herbert again. The looks he gave his son were far different from those of his last consorts. His son's hopes to finally meet someone to share his feelings seemed within his reach.

"Are you happy with him?", he asked his son the obvious via thoughts.

Herbert smiled. "You have no idea, how much. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I can't thank you enough for bringing him along."

Breda smirked. "You're more than welcome. I suppose he's going to be an agreeable companion. How far is his training?"

"He's very good. He's learning more night by night, his emotions are getting ever stronger. I can feel that, as you know. I believe this connection between us made it easier for him to relearn those emotions."

Breda nodded. He had guessed something like this. But still a lot of his progress was Alfred's own talent – Baptiste didn't reach out for him for nothing . The Viennese seemed to be able to smell exceptional vampires. As long as he knew Alfred he had never behaved like the usual vampire of his age. He had original thoughts and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He also liked it, that Alfred didn't behave too submissively in his presence. He showed him the due respect, but then he had probably learned that during his earliest education as a lower noble. Still he was definitely devoted to him, as his saving him back in Vienna proved.

They had made three-quarters of the way to the castle, when Breda ordered William to halt. He didn't want to arrive at the castle until next night, for having less pressure of time, when he called Kadir to account for his crimes. So he described William the way to the next shelter, where he should have a look around if there was a sign of Kadir there. Breda supposed the Ottoman would return to the castle in a direct way, but safety came first.

After about half an hour's time William came back – the coast was clear. He steered the coach to the small shack and the travelers got out of the coach, glad to be able to move their muscles again. The stable-boy refused any help from Herbert or Alfred and insisted on tending to the horses alone as well as bringing the precious luggage into the shack.

When morning broke they settled into coffins in the hidden cellar of the shack. Herbert did not give a damn about the narrowness and pulled Alfred along with him into his chosen coffin. They could barely close the lid above them, but after a while Alfred found it quite cozy, as he had to admit. But then he probably would have felt alone without Herbert by his side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Breda urged them on the next evening to make a quick departure, as soon as it was dark enough. When they were on the road again he gave William short orders where to go, since the stable-boy had never been to Castle Krolock.

While Alfred didn't know these forests and therefore had no idea where they were, Herbert narrowed his eyes more with every turn. This was not the direct way to the castle. This way led to...

"What are you up to?" he asked his Father sharply in thoughts.

Breda looked out of the window determinedly to avoid looking into Herbert's eyes – to avoid the accusation in them.

"You don't really believe I would allow this whole affair to rest?"

"An usurper, that has killed one of your best friends and extinguished his whole clan along with him, awaits you in our castle and all you can think of is this? Can't it wait?"

"Don't you dare talking to me like that," the count's thoughts grumbled. More than anything it was the truth in his son's words that annoyed him. Of course he was right. But he still was decided to see it through.

"Forgive me," Herbert asked stiffly. Breda was sorry that he had tortured his son with his sire's powers right now. He swore to make it up to him, when all of this was over.

Herbert said, or better thought, those last words against his will. But he had felt the compulsion to do so. He angrily turned his eyes away from his father, who wasn't looking back at him anyway, and pulled Alfred close to him. He always felt abused when his father disciplined him like that. Always, when he lost arguments, he pulled the sire's card. Of course his father wouldn't listen to him. He was far too vain for that. The villagers had wounded his pride and now they'd have to pay for it.

They reached the village after about an hour's time and Breda guided William to Chagal's inn. There he ordered the stable-boy to wait by the coach. Alfred had been confused, when he had realized where they were. He had received a bad temper from Herbert's emotions, but had supposed it to be an aftermath of the events in Kronstadt or maybe tension for what would await them in the castle. But now he also felt presentiment. He was not sure he'd like the count's next actions.

But nevertheless both, Herbert and Alfred followed the count – they had to when they had no means to refuse obedience.

The inn was calm – uncommonly calm for this time of the evening. It was just to Breda's liking. They trespassed into the barroom easily. All was silent, except for soft sounds from the kitchen.

"Herbert, you go upstairs and bring the inn-keeper and his wife. Alfred – into the kitchen, get the maid here. I will go and take what's mine."

Alfred shrugged his shoulders and followed his lord's orders. While father and son went upstairs, he walked to the door leading from the barroom into the kitchen and opened it. Magda stood at the sink, washing dishes, softly warbling away. She was so drawn into her work, that she didn't notice the vampire behind her at all. So it was more than easy for Alfred to sling one arm around her waist, covering both of her arms with it, while pressing his other hand on her mouth. The blonde maid did not even have time to scream. Alfred had understood the count to not kill Magda. So he took her like this and dragged her into the barroom. He did barely took notice of her weak attempts at defense, so strong was he now.

It was not long until Herbert came back, pulling husband and wife along, not minding them much. Alfred didn't blame him – those two had a lot of weight together. They were unconscious.

A short time later Breda led young Sarah into the room, who was eyeing him like she was enchanted. Alfred remembered some of the things Herbert had told him and supposed that she really WAS enchanted. It was strange to see Sarah again. When he had arrived here for the first time, Sarah had been the definition of beauty for him. Now he found her plain and boring.

When Sarah saw her unconscious parents and the struggling maid, some of the enchantment seemed to lift and she looked upset.

"Mama, Papa?" she asked softly and wanted to rush to the two, but Breda held her back roughly by the arm. One nod to Herbert was enough and he came to him, holding Sarah and pressing a hand on her mouth, just like Alfred did with Magda. Alfred observed that Herbert's face appeared to be stony.

Breda went to the kitchen, took a pot and scooped water from the sink. He came back and poured the wet content of the pot over the two Chagal's, who started snortingly. The needed some seconds to realize, who had attacked them and then they looked as if they died on a heart-attack any moment now.

Breda approached Chagal, took him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him upward, until his toes were dangling a few inches over the ground. Chagal struggled, but the count was only staring at him – the air seemed to become thicker by the minute.

"Please...," Chagal began to beg eventually and as it happens the count let go of him unexpectedly, causing Chagal to fall painfully on his knees. The inn-keeper remained in that position. His wife moved now to imitate her husband's position. Following a gesture from his lord, Alfred let go of Magda and pushed her towards the others. Magda knelt down beside the Chagal's. Breda seemed to like that a lot.

Alfred had supposed that Magda would start screaming, as soon as he let go of her, but he had been wrong. The blonde maid trembled like a leaf, silent tears running down her pretty face.

"Please," she begged. "It's the night of the Lord's birth, please let me go.

Ah, Christmas eve. That explained the emptiness of the Jewish inn – all the other villagers were Christians.

"The only Lord around here is me," Breda reprimanded her sharply. "And some seem to have forgotten this," he raged on and fixated the inn-keeper. "Sell me, attack me, extradite me... My last hope for you Chagal is, that you kept your knifes pretty sharp."

Chagal's wife started to whimper and Magda had a crying fit. Chagal was as pale as death. What was the count up to?

"My daughter...," Chagal stammered.

"Oh, don't worry for her. She will have the honor to sweeten my return to my castle."

"Honor? All you will do is dishonor her," the inn-keeper hurled at him, throwing all caution to the winds. He would die tonight, those pitiless eyes told him so, so he could at least die with decency.

"Another word and I will do it here and now in front of your eyes," the count warned and it was plain that he meant it. Alfred gulped. No, his feeling had been right – he didn't like this at all. Sarah uttered gurgling sounds behind Herbert's merciless hand, her eyes wide-open.

"Alfred, go and bring me the biggest and sharpest knife from the kitchen." Alfred followed this order and his presentiment grew. On their journey they had prevented their victims from rising again by plunging boughs through their hearts. But Herbert had told him, that beheading was also a proved device. This alone held no terror for Alfred. It was more that his lord had not mentioned that they would suck them dry first.

He took a look around in the kitchen and spotted the knives hanging on a wall beside the stove. One of them looked like it would please the count and Alfred took it, having no idea that he had indeed chosen the butcher's knife. He took a deep breath and returned to the others, giving the knife to Breda.

Testing his weapon, Breda let his fingers glide over the blade and was satisfied, when a drop of blood appeared at once. Yes, his time for vengeance had come and it would be terrible. But still his victims wouldn't have to suffer much pain. Chagal could be happy tonight, that he had cared that well for his knives.

Alfred went over to Herbert, who was still holding Sarah. But the girl didn't struggle anymore and only watched in horror as the count walked over to the still crying maid. Magda screamed for the last time, when he stood behind her, tearing her head back and parting it from her body in one single sweep.

Alfred closed his eyes for a moment, while the muffled sounds behind him grew louder again, when Sarah started to struggle once more. Tears ran down her face now. Madame Chagal had fallen backwards, fainting, while the inn-keeper muttered incomprehensible words. Probably it was Yiddish. Breda didn't pause long and Madame Chagal shared Magda's fate within seconds. Sarah's scream rang even through Herbert's hand. She didn't see the death of her father, since she kept her eyes closed now. But she couldn't block the sound of his head falling on the ground.

Only his lord's order could bring Alfred to grab the three heads by their hairs and taking them outside. Herbert dragged Sarah along, who lay defenseless and sobbing in his arms. The count took the heads and impaled them on Chagal's fence. They'd be a warning for the villagers, to never mess with him anymore.

Then they boarded the coach and drove away, exactly in the same moment, as the church-bells began to ring to call all believers to Christmas Mass. Only that this year, it would be a requiem.

**TBC**


	17. Back Home

**_Hey there, here is the next chapter._**

**_I want to give a huge THANK YOU to Datura Writii, who betaed my chapters in an amazing way. I've learned so much from you._**

**_And another big thank you to La Femme Victorienne who is betaing my last chapters for you, since Datura has some time issues. _**

**_ queenmedesa: YES - I like it too, when the count goes evil. I mean - he's a vampire after all, right?_**

**_Now have fun with my next chapter. _**

**Back Home**

There was an uneasy silence in the coach on the last stage of their journey, only broken by the count's commands to William, showing him the way through the forest.

Even the soft sobs of the young woman had faded away by now. Her eyes held no life as she stared, her gaze empty and unfixed. Herbert assumed the girl to be broken by the night's events. Maybe this was better for her, after all, not to feel anymore. Herbert felt true pity for her.

He was quite certain that his father's thirst for vengeance had not been quenched yet. The inn-keeper's daughter had been the trigger from this whole affair and she had also taken part in his capture. Usually he turned the women into vampires, before he had his fun with them, when they were emotionally down anyway. Herbert guessed that this girl here would not be granted this mercy. And not even the common vampire-charme could save her now – how could one fall in love with a man, who just beheaded one's parents in front of one's eyes?

Herbert was quite different from his father when it came to things like this. He could not find any joy or arousal in torturing another man, forcing himself on them. He at least needed consent, the illusion that the other one liked it – even if it was all but an act. Unconsciously he pulled Alfred closer to him and buried his face into his blond locks. His Chéri gave him even more than that. His arousal, bliss and lust had been genuine, there was no doubt about that. He would have felt it, if it had been otherwise.

Herbert closed his eyes, engulfed by Alfred's scent. Thinking back to those hours in front of the fireplace and looking forward to his future with Alfred was easier than the present thoughts about his father or the girl. He was determined to not forgive his father that easily this time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Finally, the towers of Castle Krolock came into view. Breda commanded the stable-boy to halt before they reached the driveway up to the big front-doors. He didn't want to announce their arrival to Kadir too soon. While William was told to stay by the coach and to watch over the girl, Breda, Herbert and Alfred walked toward the entrance.

They felt at once that something was wrong. It was quiet. Too quiet. A pungent smell stung their noses. Following the smell, they turned away from the entrance door and walked over to the right side of the castle-grounds.

When they reached the cemetery they saw the cause for the smell and the quiet alike. The graves were opened and the wooden coffins had burned down to coal.

Breda and his son stared incredulously at the destruction. Yes, they had not felt deep love for the vampires, that had found their ultimate end here. Many had even been more of a burden to them than anything else. But they still had been family, Breda's "children", all of them – he had sired them, he had been responsible for them.

His rage flamed up again, worse than ever before. "Kadir," Breda said, the word pressed through clenched teeth and the sound of the word alone sent shivers down Alfred's and Herbert's spine.

Alfred, who regarded the scenario with less emotion (he had known none of them), dared to speak anyway:

"There are two possibilities – he had burned them before going to Kronstadt in order to murder you. Or he burned them after his return."

"What's the difference?" asked Herbert faintly.

"If he burned them after his return, he'll know that His Excellency has survived his assault."

The two von Krolocks stared at Alfred astounded. But of course he was right. Most of his subjects would have perished, if he had been destroyed. But if Kadir had met them all alert and happy – as far as you could call them that – after his return...

Alfred went over to one of the burned coffins and groped for the wood. He frowned.

"I don't know – it must have been a pretty big fire. Since Robert's house in Kronstadt had still smoked and glowed onto the next evening I think this wood would still be glowing or at least be a bit warm, since it didn't snow. But it's cold."

Breda nodded. "So the odds are good for Kadir having done this before he went to Kronstadt."

"Which doesn't exactly speak for his ability to think logically," Alfred added. "Why all this effort, getting oneself into danger, if the matter might not be an issue anymore."

"Well, obviously he just likes to play around with fire," Herbert suggested halfheartedly. It really made no sense – Kadir seemed to be insane.

"We'll learn it only by asking him. I don't care if he expects me or not. I only know I don't want to wait a minute longer," Breda snarled as he turned on his heel and hurried to the entrance door with his cape waving as Alfred and Herbert following him in his wake.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They entered the castle and climbed the wide winged stairs to the upper floors.

Alfred followed father and son; he remembered almost nothing from the brief guide through the castle, that Herbert had given him a month ago and soon he would have been completely lost, if the count and his heir had not been with him. How were they supposed to find Kadir in this labyrinth? Alfred didn't dare to ask though – he knew now about the excellent hearing of vampires, so he tried not to make a sound.

They halted in front of a door, but Herbert held Alfred by his sleeve, as he followed the count inside the room beyond. Apparently it was an armory, for the count came back two seconds later with an impressive two-handed sword.

On they marched through the castle hallways, until they walked around a corner, where they were facing two vampires guarding a door. They both shouted out in surprise and Alfred and Herbert stopped in their tracks. Not so for Breda. Without pause, he swung the sword with both of his hands high over his head. With a single aimed stroke he beheaded both vampires at once, who fell to dust immediately.

"I see that Kadir already saw to get himself some lap dogs. I assume he is in THERE," the count snarled and pointed at the closed door with his sword, only to take it off its hinges a second later with a mighty kick.

Now that they entered the room, Alfred recognized it. He had to admit that it had been quite clever by the count to start his search for megalomaniac Kadir here. It was a kind of a reception-room with a throne-like chair, from which a person now jumped up, startled.

A vampire, obviously another one of Kadir's "lap dogs", launched hissing at the attackers of his lord, but Breda set an end to his undead existence quickly too. Now the pretended new lord of the castle was all alone.

Breda strode before the High Chair and positioned himself in front of it, resting his hands casually on the sword, which he put on the floor point first. Even though he stood below the other vampire, since the High Chair stood on a gallery, he appeared way more majestic than his opponent. The other vampire stared at Breda astounded and completely horrified, which only added to his mad looks. Alfred was certain now that Kadir had not expected Breda's return.

They just stared at each other for some time, while the temperature in the room seemed to sink with every minute. Finally the count simply said: "Kadir."

It wasn't just a name. It was order, accusation, and verdict in one. This one word broke the rigidity of the rebel. With a cry he dropped on his knees, crawled down the two steps leading from the gallery into the room and laid his face into the dust on the floor in front of Breda's feet.

"My lord," he whimpered, "forgive..."

"BE QUIET!" Breda roared and Kadir hushed at once. "You have killed my people and broke my law. You have erased one of my best friends and his whole clan, trying to assassinate me. Do you deny this?"

Kadir turned his face toward Breda to look him into the eyes. All submissiveness and horror had left his face, but Breda had not been deceived by the Ottoman's acting anyway.

"The only thing I regret is, that the fire apparently did not devour you," he spat at him.

Alfred assumed that the count would explode any moment now, but he was wrong. Breda stayed amazingly calm.

"Just as my son's consort said – it was not exceptionally bright of you to kill my creatures, before making sure you got me first."

"I asked them to follow me, to support my rebellion, but none of them had been man enough to do so. They even wanted to stop me – but I couldn't let them." While speaking, Kadir's eyes rolled and saliva ran down his chin. Breda, Herbert and Alfred agreed silently, that the Ottoman had lost his mind.

"Herbert will bring you down into the dungeons, where you will wait for the arrival of the Tribunal. They will find the right verdict for you," Breda ordered calmly and for the first time, genuine panic shone in Kadir's eyes.

"And what if I refuse?" he asked, his voice less aggressive than before.

"Well, it's your choice to go with Herbert voluntarily – or to get your arms and legs chopped off by my sword before. But don't expect any wound care – the rats in the dungeons would be quite happy."

Kadir rose slowly, his hostile stare directed at Breda. For a while he just stood there, but when Breda made a minimal movement with his hand he nodded and went over to Herbert with clenched teeth. The prince took him by his upper arm and began to lead him out of the room. Alfred caught the count's eye and turned to follow Herbert to help him with his task after his lord merely nodded to him.

They had just passed the destroyed door, when it happened. Kadir saw his last chance for escape in this moment. It had been negligent of the count not to search him. With one smooth movement he pulled out a knife from under his shirt and stabbed blindly.

With a cry Herbert went to his knees, but already Kadir's hand tried to find another aim and he stabbed toward Alfred. Alfred, having his reflexes trained during the past weeks and having this one second's warning, managed to dodge the shining blade. Just when he wanted to counter-attack, a sparkling in front of his eyes made him stop.

The following cries ringing in the room where terrible. Kadir had failed to run, because Herbert hadn't let go of him despite his injury and he didn't hit the other one. That had been the last Kadir could think of, before his whole being had been only pain. Horrified he pressed his left hand upon the gaping wound on his shoulder, where seconds before his right arm had been attached to. The arm now lay abandoned on the floor, the silver-knife still in the limp, dead hand. Kadir stared at the blade blinking in front of his nose.

"Another wrong movement, another word and your left leg is next," Breda announced with cold fury in his voice. The count looked around to see Alfred supporting Herbert, who obviously couldn't put weight on his right leg.

"Alfred, help Herbert to his chambers. I'll take Kadir to the dungeons myself and will get the girl and William afterward. Who would have thought that I'd be in need of a new stable-boy indeed? As much as anything else. If I had known this, I would have taken the maid with me instead of the pampered daughter – she would have been prettier anyway," he murmured, before looking at his son. "I'll see to you later."

"Please Father, there's no need, it's not that bad," Herbert pressed through clenched teeth with distinct pain in his voice.

Breda winced inwardly. Obviously it would need some more nights until his son forgave him. Passing a bit of his own frustration on to Kadir, he kicked the Ottoman in the back, causing him to tumble over. Shouting at him to rise, Kadir came on his feet again and stumbled in front of Breda down the hallway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert guided Alfred to his chambers. While walking, the prince put almost all of his weight on his consort, his leg still badly hurting. Finally he sank on to his bed in his chamber.

"There in that cupboard is a chest on the floor. It contains a jar of silver-herbs," Herbert said and pointed to the mighty oaken furniture.

Alfred went over and opened it. Contrary to his expectations the cupboard did not contain clothes, but – well, practically everything you could think of, which was not clothes. And it was all quite a mess – Alfred wondered how Herbert could find anything in this chaos. He went to his knees, hissing, since the spot on his thigh, on which Herbert had been hit by the knife, hurt as if it were his own pain. Hell – did Herbert silently endure the same in Vienna, when he had been injured?

Beneath a heap of junk Alfred spotted some chests and opened one after another. Finally he found one with multiple jars and flagons inside and since he was unable to identify the silver-herbs, he simply took the whole chest over to Herbert. Again he pulled a face, when he felt Herbert's pain.

"You can block it out, you know?", Herbert advised, much calmer now that he could lie down and rest his leg. "It's like sending the emotions, only the other way round. You have to decide to not want to receive any emotions from me," he said, trying to explain the technique.

"Did you do that in Vienna?" Alfred asked curiously and Herbert nodded. He hissed painfully when he undressed his trousers. When he finally held the pants in his hands he regarded the hole that the knife had caused, annoyed. "Great. Really, great. That was one of the best ones we purchased in Vienna."

Alfred tried to follow Herbert's instructions and succeeded in blocking the prince's emotions. He could bear it for exactly two minutes before he opened the barrier again. He took a deep calming breath, which caused Herbert to look at him inquiringly.

"I can't bear not feeling you. I almost panicked," Alfred explained silently. "I prefer feeling pain to feeling nothing, I guess," he added, since Herbert didn't seem to understand.

"But you've gotten so good already," Herbert wondered. Alfred only shook his head.

"There was nothing anymore. It was like – like learning a song and the moment you have to sing it in front of an audience you have forgotten the lyrics. But as soon as someone whispers the first words to you, suddenly you remember the rest. I seem to need these whispered words constantly, for I'm lost without them. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so," Herbert said and reached into the chest to pull out the right jar without thinking. Lavishly spreading the silver-herbs on the small stab-wound on his thigh, he said to Alfred: "Would you please go into that left room. On a shelf somewhere on the upper left side must be some wide silver-colored pants."

Alfred did as he was asked and so he found Herbert's wardrobe – it was a whole room. Alfred almost couldn't believe his eyes – how could a single person have that many clothes? Herbert might be able to look back on a long existence, but even so it seemed impossible that he wore everything in here at least once. Shaking his head he made to search for the pants and indeed found them on a shelve on the upper left side. It was fascinating that Herbert obviously could stay on top of things, knowing what he owned and where to find it. An astonishing memory performance.

He went back to the bed and gave Herbert the pants, who put them on immediately. Then the prince pushed himself back on the bed, until his back rested on the impressing head-piece.

Alfred climbed after him and sat down on the bed cross-legged. "Why did your father not take Magda with him, since he found her prettier than Sarah? I mean – I wouldn't have liked it better to see Sarah beheaded, but..."

Herbert shrugged his shoulders. "Because he set his mind on Sarah long ago. And probably because she has something, that the maid didn't."

"What?"

"Virginity," Herbert explained unmoved and smiled, when he saw comprehension dawn on Alfred. "One of father's obsessions."

"How can he know that Sarah... I mean, I wouldn't assume otherwise, but..."

"Alfred – a vampire can smell that. And I mean that literally. You will learn that soon," Herbert chuckled.

Alfred laughed along out of embarrassment. Then he fell quiet, wondering if the count saw to unmake Sarah a virgin right now.

"How did you like father today?" Herbert asked after a while. Alfred looked at him almost terrified. Herbert smiled soothingly. "Don't worry – these walls have no ears. It's just among us two."

Alfred tried to express his feelings in words. This whole night, since the events in the inn, he had tried NOT to think about it. "He... it was his right to do what he did," he finally murmured. On the one hand he was convinced about his words, but on the other hand they also felt wrong.

"Yes, I guess he does. He's our lord. He's always right," Herbert answered toneless.

"I didn't like it, but..."

"You got the first taste of the power of your sire. Whenever our sire commands us – and it doesn't need to be a verbal command, he seems to be able to control us mentally too – we have to obey, if we want it, or not."

"It that why you're angry with him?" Alfred asked, for he of course had felt the tension between father and son.

"I told him that I didn't like his plan to take vengeance now, when I realized where we were headed to. In thoughts," he added, since Alfred looked confused. "I told him to postpone it until after caring for the usurper in his castle. You know – whenever he lacks for arguments in a discussion with me I'm no longer his son. Then he always sets his power on me, this power I cannot fight. He knows how much I hate this."

Alfred reached out and placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. He heard the disappointment in Herbert's voice and he knew how he felt – for he felt it too. Herbert felt abused and betrayed and Alfred could understand him.

"Well, maybe he sees now how wrong he was and how right you were," he said, trying to find something to comfort his consort. "If he had waited, he would have known to bring Magda and not Sarah." It was so hard to say anything even slightly bad about his sire.

Herbert smiled at Alfred's efforts. It felt so good to have someone on ones side, no matter how hard it was for them.

"So, this Vampire-Tribunal is coming here now?" Alfred changed topics, to steer out of these dangerous waters. "Who is that, by the way?"

"A constant commission, consisting of seven chosen representatives – I guess they are elder and experienced vampires, but I don't know the members. The lords choose them. I have never seen them – they're not called that often to a trial."

Alfred nodded. Kadir seemed to deserve it. All he left was burned ground – literally. "I'm sorry for the vampires here," he said halfheartedly. He thought it polite to say – at least Herbert had known them all. But the impression, that they hadn't been that close to Herbert's heart was confirmed.

"Well – I don't really mourn about them. There were two, maybe three I cared about a bit at least. But in all honesty: This whole affair is more of a logistic problem – a castle needs personnel. Father has no other chance than to create some vampires in the upcoming weeks.

"I hope only women and ugly men," Alfred teased and Herbert beamed.

"Fear for your position, Chéri?" he cheeked back. "But seriously – the real pity is, that there will be no ball now," Herbert said and looked truly sorry. Quite the contrary to Alfred, who looked relieved at this prospect.

"Oh, it's not that bad. Maybe you remember the bit when I told you that I can't dance?" he said cheerfully.

"One year as my pupil and you will dance through the ballroom like a young god," Herbert announced stubbornly. "I bought you a very expensive suit and you'll need to wear it."

"I could wear it without dancing," Alfred argued.

"You won't duck out of this," Herbert warned him, wiggling a playful index.

"Well, you can't give me a lesson right now," Alfred said and pointed on Herbert's thigh. The prince only laughed.

"Chéri – this is nothing compared to your injury. The knife was not nearly long enough in the flesh to cause a real silver-poisoning. Tomorrow evening it most certainly will be completely healed."

Alfred knew that this should please him, but he couldn't find any enthusiasm about it. But suddenly he got a cheekish glance in his eyes, moved closer to Herbert and touched the prince's lips slightly with his own.

"Then I'll have to find other ways to keep you in bed," he whispered, licking lewdly across Herbert's lips.

Herbert shivered and laid a hand in Alfred's neck to pull him closer. It was a while before they broke apart again. Alfred cuddled up to Herbert.

"You know, this all was planned differently," Herbert explained softly, while slipping a hand under Alfred's shirt and stroking his back.

"Hm?" his consort asked, closing his eyes with relish.

"Well, our First Time. Usually one should sleep contentedly afterwards and wake up together on the next evening – not jumping down balconies to escape a raging fire."

Alfred grinned. "Well, I can guarantee you that I won't ever forget it. It left a lasting impression, as I might say."

Herbert chuckled too. "And you're really not disappointed?"

Alfred shook his head. "No, why should I? It's not like we couldn't start another attempt, is it? But if we'll have to jump out of a window because of a fire again afterward – well, we should wonder if it was down to us."

Herbert laughed at the statement. It felt so good to have Alfred by his side, this intelligent, humorous and damn good-looking young man. "Then I'll forbid to light the fireplace henceforth, until we can be sure it's not us. We should minimize any risks," he announced merrily.

"Oh, what a pity. Just now I wanted to offer to light a fire. It's getting cold in here, don't you think?" Alfred's voice had turned from playfully to lewdly again.

"Oh, I know how to get warm," Herbert followed Alfred's lead and soon the two young men were kissing again. Pulling off their shirts. Alfred placed light kisses on Herbert's breast and nipples, causing them to get hard at once.

Alfred noticed something else getting hard on his and Herbert's body alike. Now that he knew what to expect, he found it almost impossible to wait any longer for it. He wanted to feel Herbert in him again, at once. Not losing much time, he kissed down Herbert's chest before he almost frantically began nestling on Herbert's pants.

Of course the prince noticed Alfred's sudden hurry. He smiled knowingly – Alfred had obviously found pleasure in their intimacies and nothing could make him happier. Now it was only normal, that Alfred would want to test himself, to try out different things. And Herbert could imagine worse things, than to pose as Alfred's test object. They were both naked by now and Alfred ran a dangerous possibility of overestimating his butt's abilities in his haste. So Herbert plunged a hand into the still open wooden chest and pulled out a jar, massaging some of its contents on and in Alfred's anus. "Just a bit of grease," he explained, when Alfred looked at him questioningly. "You'll see, it makes it all easier."

Alfred enjoyed the feeling of Herbert's fingers massaging him, but soon it just wasn't enough. He wanted the feeling to be filled completely by Herbert. So he climbed over his consort, slowly sitting down on Herbert's member. It took him another kind of courage, to go the full way. He still remembered the pain he had felt before, when Herbert had taken him more or less recklessly. But Herbert had been right, the grease sped things up. Soon he sat fully on Herbert, slowly starting to move, relishing every second.

Herbert couldn't get enough from the picture in front of his eyes. This beautiful young man riding him with closed eyes and slightly opened lips, clearly enjoying himself. Alfred was so unbelievably tight, that it took all of Herbert's resistance not to go off like a bomb at once.

Some while later they lay on the bed beside each other, heavily breathing. "Is that your bathroom?" Alfred asked lazily, pointing, and when Herbert nodded he got up reluctantly. Walking over to the room he noticed again, that his behind rather wanted to be left alone afterwards – no movements, if possible. He entered the bathroom, looking around astonished. He had expected something like this, but this assemblage of hygienic and cosmetic products beat his imagination well. And he noticed another thing: Herbert's bathtub was really huge. He looked forward to try it out. Maybe together with Herbert. But now he turned to the sink and took a cloth from a stack beside it. He wetted the cloth with water, then returned to the bed and began to wash away the traces from Herbert's body, that their lovemaking had left.

Afterward he just threw the cloth on the floor carelessly and climbed back into bed. Now, that the prince didn't stick anymore, he could snuggle up to him and eventually find some sleep.

Hopefully until the next evening.

**TBC**


	18. Dancing Lesson

**Dancing Lesson**

_About a month later_

Thoughtfully, Breda pushed the white knight onward and claimed the black pawn, that had been the key part of Alfred's defense-strategy. The young vampire looked rather abashed at this new situation on the board and realized his checkmate to be inevitable – as he often found. Sighing, he knocked his king over, admitting defeat.

Alfred leaned back in his chair, listening to Herbert's playing the piano, while the Count set the game up once more. Finally he had found a good and persistent opponent for thrilling chess-matches. Herbert was way too skittish and impatient for it.

There was a knock on the door and a plain young woman entered, stacking new wood in the fireplace and disappearing again as silently, as she had come. Alfred frowned and turned to the count, who had already reopened the new match.

Breda von Krolock had caught Alfred's look and shook his head, smiling. "You're still not approving of my decision, are you?"

Alfred pulled a face, for this sentence implied that he'd insinuate his lord had made a bad judgment. But with a huge effort of will he succeeded in understanding this question as an invitation to speak openly, maybe even a request for advice.

Breda watched Alfred's facial expression work frantically and knew about the inner fight this young vampire had to fight right now. And when Alfred's face got smooth again, he felt triumph. It was refreshing to watch Alfred's huge progress, that he made night by night. He wouldn't want to miss this likable young man around him anymore.

"It's just – you and Herbert have moved on from this phase for such a long time. I think you won't remember exactly what these new-born vampires are going through – not as much as I do. I still have moments, when I lose myself, even if they grow less. But I can still remember very well how it has been before this bond of blood with Herbert.

"You pity them," the count stated calmly.

Alfred didn't seem to like this expression. "Not pity," he disagreed, "but compassion. And I'm sure life here would be much more enjoyable. I mean – I gained the impression, that you appreciate my company?"

Breda smirked from his amount of confidence. "Indubitably," he agreed and Alfred beamed.

"But you wouldn't if I were different. If I were like them," Alfred continued and pointed to the closed door, to where the young woman had disappeared.

"I'm not saying, that you don't have a point, Alfred. Probably you even have the truth of it. But you underestimate the effort, we had to put into. You gained access to a fully developed world of emotions by creating that bond of blood with Herbert. This maid doesn't have this advantage. Even with the blood bond it is a huge struggle for you, to learn to feel again. You're still learning and you are an intelligent, educated young man, ambitious and very curious. She is a simple maid. Even if we were to combine all of our vigor, she would never get as far as you're now," the count explained patiently.

Alfred nodded. He had already understood, that his ideal visions were utopian. While getting on with the match, he asked silently: "But if we at least tried it? Just try to pull them out of the darkness, they're in right now? It wouldn't need much for it. They don't need to be educated thoroughly. There are but a few new vampires now, we could still manage it. I'm sure they'd be grateful for it," he added.

Breda smiled, while putting the poor boy into checkmate again with his next draw. This match had been quite short, but Alfred's thoughts had been elsewhere, with his new brothers and sisters.

"I will reconsider," he said, when Alfred realized his recent defeat – only to find that he had gained a little victory too. He smiled gratefully.

Herbert had stopped his play and came over to them, slinging his arms around Alfred and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Time for our dancing lesson, Chéri," he announced and looked at his father. "Am I allowed to abduct him from you?" Breda nodded. "Well, I'll just get our capes, wait for me..." Herbert purred and disappeared.

"Capes?" Alfred called after him blankly, before shrugging his shoulders and waiting.

"Ah, Alfred, I just remembered – I finished the letter for your parents. William will take it to the postal service soon. I informed them of your decease due to an assault in my woods. I tell them that we caught and punished the robbers and that you were laid to rest in my castle's graveyard. I blame the lateness of the letter on the fact, that I only just now got informed of the death of Professor Abronsius, who had wanted to inform your parents in the first place."

Alfred nodded thankfully. Since getting better at accessing his emotions, he had started worrying about his family. He didn't want to leave them in the dark, he simply couldn't do that to his mother. Of course she would be distraught by the news of his death. But that was still better than to wonder forever, why he hadn't come home.

Herbert came back now, well wrapped up in a warm cape and a scarf around his neck. Alfred stared confused at the same clothes, the prince had brought for him.

"Did the fireplace in the ballroom collapse?" he asked in a weak attempt to make a joke.

"We'll go outside," Herbert only explained, beaming,

Well, if it made him happy. Alfred shrugged his shoulders again, took the warm clothes and put them on.

"See you later, Father," Herbert called merrily, throwing a bundle on his back and pulling Alfred along with him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert led Alfred to the stables, where William had already readied two horses for them. Apparently Herbert had planned this excursion quite well.

"Will you tell me where we are going? And what's in your bundle?"

"You will see," Herbert simply said, climbing onto his gelding.

Alfred followed suit, not really having expected a contenting answer. When he sat down in the saddle, he couldn't prevent pulling a face. Hell, this position was inadvisable with a sore butt. But he had to grin, when he remembered the cause for the pain.

He and Herbert couldn't let their hands off each other. Not one night had passed without them sharing the bed – or other furniture... Usually they managed to wait until the second part of the night. Not so tonight. And so Alfred's vampiric healing powers had not had time enough to heal the traces of their love-making. Pleadingly he asked Herbert to canter, since then he could raise from the saddle. Herbert saw through Alfred's request and met it.

Alfred still didn't know the area around castle Krolock well, so he had no idea where they were heading. He was only certain, that he had not been in this direction yet. Finally Herbert lifted a hand to signal him to slow down. They halted and dismounted.

They were at a small, almost perfectly round lake. The other shore was about twenty meter away. The starry sky mirrored on the smooth surface of the ice, which covered the lake completely. It was a beautiful place that emanated peace.

At least it did seem peaceful, until Herbert started to unpack his bundle. Skids of steel glistened in the pale moonlight. The skids were screwed to a wooden base frame, to which several leather strings were attached.

"No," Alfred only said, fiercely shaking his head, realizing Herbert's plan.

"Yes, Chéri. You will see how wonderfully you can dance on the ice," Herbert answered, holding a pair of skids to Alfred. "Come on, sit down, so I can buckle them onto your shoes."

"Herbert, this is dangerous," Alfred said, implacable.

"No, it's not," Herbert disagreed. "I'm very good at it, you don't need to be afraid."

"Herbert, I'm constantly running danger of breaking my neck with both feet on firm ground. I CAN'T do this!"

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No, of course not. My mother would never had let me. She loved me, you know?"

Herbert laughed. "Don't make such a fuss. You'll see, it is fantastic. I'll hold you, alright? We won't go home, until you have at least tried it."

Alfred hesitated. He had already noticed, that Herbert seemed to win this kind of discussion every single time. He started a last, desperate attempt to change the prince's mind.

"How is it that you can do this? Didn't they teach you that a noble won't go on ice? This is reserved for the common people."

Herbert looked at him astonished. "Did your parents tell you that?" Alfred nodded. "Then they really feared for your life. That's complete nonsense. As if common people could even afford skids like this. Now sit down please."

"What if the ice breaks?" Alfred asked in a thin voice, even though his own scientific mind told him that this was very unlikely, since it had been very cold in the past weeks. Herbert didn't even bother to give him an answer to that question and only stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"You'll hold me?"

"All the time."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart!"

Alfred surrendered to his fate and sat down on the frozen grass, watching as Herbert buckled the skids to his shoes. When they fit tightly, Herbert cared for his own skids.

"Wait here," Herbert said, standing up. Alfred marveled at Herbert's ability to move that gracefully on these things, walking over to the ice. But it was nothing to the admiration he felt, when Herbert began to dance on the ice. The prince made twists and skidded backwards as skillfully as he did forwards. Alfred gasped several times, but Herbert never stumbled. Slowly he got the feeling, that he might survive this night after all, as long as Herbert kept his promise. Finally, his consort stopped directly in front of him, spraying him with ice. Alfred laughed, swiping the cold ice out of his face and clapping for Herbert's performance. The prince bowed theatrically.

"You're really good," Alfred complimented and Herbert beamed.

"That's what I tried to tell you. Now, give me both your hands."

Alfred did as he was told and Herbert pulled him up. At once he started to sway – if he had still been human, he would have fallen already. But now he had the body control of a vampire. He probably would never be as graceful a hunter as Herbert or his father, but he had lost some of his clumsiness.

It also helped that Herbert held him firmly, stabilizing him. Slowly, Alfred took two steps, then he stood on the ice. His knees trembled a bit and he clung anxiously to Herbert, who eventually moved backward.

Herbert moved slowly over the ice, in wide circles, pulling Alfred along, giving him time to adjust, to find his balance. For Alfred it seemed to be a breathtaking speed. He was as stiff as a ramrod, stretching his behind far out, assuming to fall down on it any moment. It took some rounds until he relaxed a little, straightening up.

When Herbert felt that Alfred was relaxed enough, he changed positions, gliding over to Alfred's side. Patiently he explained, how to move forward and how to gain speed. The longer Alfred was on the ice without having fallen, the braver he became. Soon they were skidding side-by-side over the ice, Herbert holding Alfred only by one hand. Alfred beamed. He would have never dreamed how much fun this was.

When Alfred was fairly confident on the skids, Herbert started with the dancing lesson. He repeated all the dances, he had already taught Alfred, saying: "After this lesson, you will see how simple the dancing is on firm ground."

It was harder and easier at the same time. Alfred felt like he had something on the ice which he lacked on the ground – elegance and poise. He had to rely on those two to keep his balance. And unlike with the lessons in the ballroom, he didn't wish for it to end too soon. Herbert had kept his promise. He had not let go of him a single moment and always caught him, when he swayed.

Now Alfred fell onto Herbert's breast, laughing, after the prince had forced him into a pirouette. The strong arms of his consort prevented him from falling and pulled him in a tight embrace. Merrily, Alfred looked at his dance instructor, stretching his neck to be able to kiss him, forgetting the ice underneath his feet.

"Excuse me," a soft voice said quietly, but firmly.

Herbert and Alfred broke apart. They had been so immersed into each other, that they had not noticed the arrival of strangers. Four riders halted at the shore of the lake. The one in front, who had spoken, smiled at them, showing her long pointed teeth – so the strangers were vampires. The three other riders – two male, one female – stayed in the background, appearing to be her guards.

Fascinated, Herbert and Alfred regarded the vampiress. She looked both, very young and incredibly old. Her fine and young – almost childish – facial features prompted assumption, that she had been changed at no more than sixteen. But at the same time she emanated a breathtaking wisdom and maturity. Her open hair fell down far over her slim waist and had the same color as Herbert's – ash-blonde. But the most captivating feature was her eyes – they shone in a bright purple color, casting a spell on everyone.

After just staring at this extraordinary vampiress for a small eternity, Herbert remembered his position, taking Alfred by the arm and gliding over to the shore. When he reached the riders, he bowed, Alfred following suit.

"Carpe Noctem," the prince said. Alfred had already learned, that this was the international greeting among vampires. _(A/N: "Seize the night") _

"Carpe Noctem," the vampiress answered smiling. "My name is Siliel and I'm following an invitation by Count Breda von Krolock. Can you show me the way?"

"Herbert von Krolock," the prince introduced himself. "It is my father, who you want to see. I'll gladly accompany you to the castle, if you can wait just a minute longer?" he added, pointing to the skids. The vampiress named Siliel nodded and Herbert and Alfred hurried to unbuckle the skids. Soon they were safely back in Herbert's bundle. The prince took a critical look at Alfred's behind, before saying: "Alfred, would you please ride ahead and announce Lady Siliel's arrival to my father?"

"Of course," Alfred said, nodding courtly to the guests before mounting his horse, cantering away. He was grateful for Herbert's request, even though he didn't know the area that well. He still had a good sense of orientation and supposed he knew where the castle was. Moreover, horses had a compass of their own – they would always find the way back into their stable. So it didn't take long until he arrived at castle Krolock.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

William took the horse while Alfred informed him that he'll soon get more work to do. The stable-boy didn't seem to mind. He had done well in the count's service up to now. Alfred hurried over the court into the castle, looking for the count. He still got lost in the labyrinthine hallways from time to time, but he knew already the most common ways between the most important chambers. He found the count in the first place he went to look for him – the library.

"Your Excellency?" he called, knocking on the door as he opened it.

Breda von Krolock looked up from his reading. "Alfred? Are you alone? Did something happen?" he asked, feeling subliminal agitation in the young vampire.

"Herbert is coming. We met a traveling party on the way. They say they've come at your invitation. The leader called herself Siliel."

The count closed his book with a hint of disappointment (the story had been quite thrilling at the moment – it had been one of Baptiste's better decisions, to present Alfred with these adventure-books), rose and smoothed down his clothes.

"So they've started to arrive. Siliel is a member of the Tribunal. How many vampires accompany her?"

"Three."

"Go and inform Gaby about their arrival. She shall ready the small south-wing on the first floor for them. Then come down into the court, where I will welcome them."

Alfred nodded, turned on his heel and went to look for the maid, Gaby. He did not envy the girl. In consideration of the nearing arrival of several high vampires, the count had given order to get several wings of the castle cleaned that partially had been out of use for centuries and had looked like that too. Breda even had changed a carpenter from one of his villages, to have someone to overhaul the old furniture or make new pieces.

At first, the inn-keeper's daughter, Sarah, had helped the new maid, or at least she was meant to. But soon it was clear that this could not be a permanent solution. The poor girl's soul had been shattered that much by the events before her death, that she had turned into a very evil thing. It was impossible to have her around for long and after several attacks by her on others the count had seen no other possibility than to get rid of her – in the end she had lost her head like the rest of her family.

Koukól, the old hunchbacked servant, couldn't help the new maid either. They had found him one week after their return to the castle, when the count had tried to find the source for a horrible smell in an abandoned part of the castle. Apparently, Kadir had locked the cripple in a room there and left him to starve and die of thirst. A crime Breda simply put on the list for the Tribunal to judge over.

In the end Breda had no other choice than to get himself another maid, but still most of the work had fallen on Gaby. Alfred found her in the private-wing of father and son, cleaning the small parlor they had been sitting in earlier this night. When Alfred gave her the count's order, Gaby dropped everything and hurried over to the south-wing to light the fires and controlling the cleanliness once more.

Alfred hurried back into the entrance hall and out into the court, where he arrived just in time to see the traveling party riding up the driveway to the castle. They dismounted and William took over the horses with the help of the carpenter. Herbert offered Siliel his arm and led her to the count.

"Father, this is Lady Siliel. Milady, His Excellency, the Count von Krolock," the prince introduced the two to each other. Siliel offered her hand, smiling as Breda placed a kiss on it. Then she glimpsed over to the right side, where, in the distance, the burnt remnants of the graveyard were still visible. Their fine vampire-noses could still detect the burnt smell lingering over the place. It had been Breda's order to leave everything as it was – as proof for the trial. The new vampires had found coffins in a small side-crypt in the cellar. Siliel turned back to the count.

"Count Breda von Krolock, it is my pleasure to meet you. You have summoned me."

"That's right," Breda confirmed, nodding. "I suppose you want me to fill you in on my accusations at once?"

Siliel looked over to the cemetery again. "No, not really. I think it's better to wait until the rest of the Tribunal has arrived."

"You're the first to have arrived," Breda informed her and the vampiress smiled.

"I know," she simply said as she passed by Breda and entered the castle.

Alfred looked startled. This vampiress just left the count flatly. An insult! But he was even more startled by the count's reaction – he didn't even pull a face. He only hurried to keep up with Siliel's pace. Herbert took Alfred by the elbow and they followed the two, just like Siliel's guard did.

"Would you like to join me in a conversation in one of my drawing rooms, or would you prefer to rest from your journey? Unfortunately, due to recent events, I'm only able to provide you with a proper coffin – your companions have to put up with beds."

Siliel laughed. "I prefer a bed too, to be honest, so that's really no problem. I'd rather retire now. But there will be enough time for extensive conversations, Excellency."

Breda nodded. "Of course. If you would follow me – I arranged for chambers in the south-wing for you." With a glance over to Herbert and Alfred he pointed them to retire too, while showing his guests the way with an inviting gesture.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Herbert pulled Alfred into his chambers, where they always got ready for the day. "Siliel – I can't believe this," Herbert murmured, as soon as he had closed the door behind himself.

"You know her?" Alfred asked surprised.

"I've heard about her. She's also called "The Childlike Vampiress". Rumors tell that she was only 13 years old, when she was turned. But apparently she had been very powerful from the beginning. They say she got rid of her sire within the first hours of her vampire-life. And she is very old. Something about 600 years, if I'm not wrong. Well – at least the rumors about her beauty don't meet the reality at all – and I always thought they were exaggerated."

Alfred marveled at this information, while putting off his shirt to do a quick wash at the sink in Herbert's bathroom. Smiling, he noticed the admiring looks, that seemed to be stroking over his naked skin. A second later, the prince had slung his arms around his waist, standing behind him, placing soft kisses along his neck. Instantly Alfred's knees got weak – whenever Herbert held him like this, he seemed to lose any will of his own. Determinedly, he wrestled himself out of Herbert's arms and sat down on the edge of the tub – his behind needed time to heal.

"Your father treated her with a lot of respect," Alfred said while watching Herbert doing a quick wash too.

"Yes, he has. Believe me – I've never seen him letting anyone treat him like this. But the rumors say, that it would be very unwise to make her your enemy. So please Alfred – if she wants you to grovel, grovel! I'll do the same. Don't let yourself be fooled by her kind speaking or her sweet girl's face. She doesn't ask, she commands."

Alfred nodded. "Why did she know that she was the first one to arrive?" he asked, more himself than anyone, but Herbert answered again.

"They say she's got powerful mental abilities. Allegedly she is able to read anyone's mind, one-way, so unlike my father and I can do it with each other. They say it's impossible to lie to her."

"Well, in that case it's only logical to have her in a Tribunal to judge over vampires," Alfred stated. He decided to keep out of this vampiress' way.

Quickly they changed into their sleeping clothes, before they went down into the crypt. The count was not there yet. They made themselves comfortable in Herbert's sarcophagus.

"Alright," Herbert finally said, when they had found their right positions. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," Alfred confirmed.

Alfred concentrated on the emotion that Herbert sent him over their blood connection, as he was doing every morning lately – usually it was an emotion connected to an event of the night. This time it was pure joy. Some seconds later Herbert closed the connection from him to Alfred. He now didn't receive any emotion from his consort anymore. While that had made him panic some weeks ago, he now could bear it calmly. He now had enough emotions of his own. Today it was very easy for him, to find the asked emotion and send it back to Herbert. All he had to do was thinking back on their dance on the ice and how much he had liked it, when he had gotten over his fear. He could send Herbert the emotion, for the prince had closed their connection only one-way. The had experimented a bit over the last weeks and had now a way better control over their bond of blood. Herbert opened the barrier again, when the right emotion had reached him.

"You're really getting better night by night," he praised Alfred.

"Thanks to you," the young vampire only said and gave Herbert a tender kiss.

"So, like every morning – here comes the next one," Herbert said and sent the next emotion over.

Alfred closed his eyes and concentrated on the emotion, smiling. Herbert had sent him this particular emotion every morning for two straight weeks now, but he had not been able to identify it, let alone produce it. He couldn't remember ever having felt it. The emotion was hard to describe – a burning sensation, almost painful, but still wonderful. It filled him up, head to toes, but he still couldn't name it. But that didn't stop him from enjoying it immensely.

Suddenly, a noise from the neighboring sarcophagus told them, that the count had finally arrived. Since he didn't like their billing and cooing when he wanted to sleep at all, they just exchanged a last grin, before Alfred rested his head on Herbert's breast, finding sleep easily.

**TBC**


End file.
